THOIMAS 


V 


VALERIA  AND  OTHER  POEMS 


VALERIA 

AND  OTHER  POEMS 


BY 


HARRIET  MONROE 


CHICAGO 

A.  C.  McCLURG  &  COMPANY 
1892 


Copyright,  1891,  1892,  by  HARRIET  MONROE. 
All  rig-kts  reserved. 


THE  DE  VINNE  PRESS. 


TO 
THE  MEMORY  OF 

JOHN  WELLBORN  ROOT 

THIS   VOLUME  IS    DEDICATED 
IN  LOVE  AND  GRATITUDE 


925733 


THE  CONTENTS. 


VALERIA,  A  TRAGEDY. 


PROLOGUE 
ACT  I.        ... 

PAGE. 

.      .      .      .      ...        3 

ACT  II. 

ACT  III.     .       .       . 

.      .      .       .      .                 91 

ACT  IV.         .-      . 
ACT  V. 

••      i29 

ISQ 

POEMS.     I. 


NIAGARA'S  SONG    . 
ORIGIN  OF  THE  TIDES 
SONG  OF  THE  AIR 
IN  THE  BEGINNING 
A  WRECK      . 
A  RONDEAU 


197 
203 
204 
207 
208 
209 


CANTATA — Sung  at  the  dedication  of  the  Chi 
cago  Auditorium,  December  9,  1889  .  .  .  213 

COMMEMORATION  ODE — Read  and  sung  at  the 
dedicatory  ceremonies  of  the  World's  Columbian 
Exposition,  on  the  four-hundredth  anniversary  of 
the  discovery  of  America  ......  220 


OUR  LADY  OF  ART 237 

FROM  THE  DARK 241 

SHADOWS 245 

THE  LAND  OF  LOVE 246 

WITH  FOLDED  WINGS          248 

A  PASTEL          250 


IV. 

DANCING  SONG 253 

MARRIAGE  SONG 255 

SLUMBER  SONG 257 

LOVE  SONG 258 

To  A  CHILD          . 260 

LOVE'S  POWER          .       .       .       .       .       .       ,  261 

Au  REVOIR ...-••       .  263 

HOPE .       ......  264 

UNFULFILLED .       .  265 

PROH  PUDOR! 267 

FOR  JOHN  PAUL  —  who  sent  roses  on  St.  Valentine's  Day  269 

To  ROBERT  Louis  STEVENSON     .       .       •>      ,       .  270 

OUTWARD  BOUND 271 

To  HESTER 272 

EPITAPH  ON  A  DOG 273 

A  QUESTION          ........  274 

A  SKETCH 275 


PAGE. 

A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  DAKOTAS    .   .   .   .277 

BY  THE  DRAGON  RIVER 281 

A  HYMN 283 

SONNETS. 

To  MY  LEADER        .......  287 

To  A  CLASS-MATE 288 

TIME'S  PERVERSITY    .......  289 

ON  READING  A  MODERN  ROMANCE     ....  290 

''THE  MONARCH."  A  portrait  of  a  lion,  by  Rosa  Bonheur, 

now  in  the  Vanderbilt  collection  .  .  .  .  291 

AN  INVOCATION  TO  HEALTH.  For  one  seeking  her  in  the 

Adirondacks 292 

To  MRS.  YALE 293 

To    MY    SlSTER.      From  over  the  Sea        ....      294 

RED  CLOVER 295 

To  A  BEAUTIFUL  LADY 296 

TO   W.    S.    M.      With  a  copy  of  Shelley      ...  297 

BY  LAKE  MICHIGAN       .       .       .       .       •       .  '    .     298 

ENVOI. 

ON   READING   LONGFELLOW'S    LINES    "The  Arrow 

and  the  Song." 3°* 


IN    A 

PROLOGUE 

AND 

FIVE  ACTS 


Persons  of  the  Prologue. 

PRINCE  ANDREA. 

FLORIMOND,  Count  of  Vancua,  friend  to  the  Prince. 

GUARDSMEN. 
VALERIA,  a  traveling  child-minstrel  and  raconteur. 


The  action  of  the  Prologue  and  of  the  Play  takes 
place  in  one  of  the  petty  states  of  Italy  during  the 
fourteenth  century. 


PROLOGUE. 


SCENE. — A  roadside.     In  the  distance  a  palace.     Enter  the  child- 
minstrel  Valeria,  ragged  and  weary,  and  bearing  a  lute. 


Valeria. 

How  tired  the  day  is,  and  my  head  is  hot  — 
So  hot  perchance  the  sun  has  sent  his  beams 
To  rest  upon  it.     All  the  birds  have  flown. 
Give  me  your  wings,  my  music-makers — wings! 
And  I  will  seek  you  where  the  perfumes  grow, 
In  the  king's  garden  yonder.     I  will  see 
The  great  white  towers  you  wheel  about,  and  hear 
The  voice  of  princes  and  of  white-skinned  maids. 
Are  you  not  happy  when  you  die,  my  birds — 
You  who  have  seen  such  glory?    I  believe 
I  could  be  joyous  all  my  life  if  once 
Some  youth,  all  gold  and  velvet  and  perfume, 
Like  him  who  far  away  in  yesterday 
Reined  in  his  steed  to  listen  to  my  song — 
If  some  such  lord  should  take  me  by  the  hand 

3 


And  say :  I  will  not  give  thee  coins  for  song — 

Sing  me  a  ballad  for  an  hour  of  joy  ; 

One' song,  nnd  for  an  hour  thou  shall  command, 

Arid  all 'the  glories  of  thy  dreams  are  thine! 

Tihep  would  I  shQut  and  bid  my  laughing  soul 

Change  to  a  princess  for  a  lily's  year ; 

And  1  would  cry,  My  robes,  my  jewels,  ho ! 

Summon  my  slaves  and  bid  them  bear  me  on 

Through  gardens  richer  than  a  rose's  heart, 

Through  halls  where  bright  deeds,  deeply  set  in  gold, 

Shine  from  the  walls  like  jewels,  and  great  kings 

Stand  forth  in  marble  and  at  last  are  still. 

Oh,  I  would  crowd  such  years  into  that  hour 

That  all  my  life  would  be  but  memory 

And  all  my  songs  an  echo  ! 

[She  sings.] 
Have  you  heard  of  the  princess  who  far  away 

In  a  tower  by  the  moaning  sea 
For  her  lover  kept  watch,  till  she  heard  one  say 

That  a  perjured  soul  had  he  ? 
For  the  troth  she  had  plighted  for  aye,  for  aye, 

Was  a  jest  to  his  spirit  free. 

One  flash  from  her  eyes,  and  she  turned  their  light 

On  the  storm-bound  sea  and  sky  — 
One  moment,  and  swift  through  the  pitiless  night 

A  shadowy  shape  sped  by. 
And  no  sound  was  heard,  through  the  storm's  affright, 

Of  a  human  soul's  last  cry. 


It  is  strange 

The  high-born  princess  could  not  find  delight, 
Whom  all  obeyed  save  one.     Ah  !  would  to  Heaven 
That  I  might  wear  her  robes  and  coronet, 
And  have  a  troop  of  courtiers  at  my  beck ! 
I  would  be  happy  as  the  bird  that  flies 
Nearest  the  sun,  content  to  fly  alone. 
No  man  of  all  their  tribe  should  e'er  disturb 
My  high  serenity. 

[The  girl  wanders  out.     Enter  the   Prince  and   Florimond,  gay 
youths  laughing  together.] 

The  Prince. 

But,  Florimond, 

While  there  are  horses  in  my  father's  realm 
I  cannot  think  of  women. 

Florimond. 

Say  you  so ! 

Your  highness  then  shall  give  me  all  the  maids 
And  I  will  get  you  steeds  from  Barbary. 

The  Prince. 

These  ladies  of  the  court,  my  Florimond, 
Think  you  a  man  may  find  one  maid  of  all 
Whose  whole  life  owns  as  much  of  nature's  law 
As  yonder  thrush's  song?    Oh,  I  am  tired 
Of  the  bowed  heads  and  bending  knees  of  women 

5 


Who  spy  the  prince  afar,  but  have  no  eyes 

Save  for  his  trappings  !     If  I  could  but  find 

One  face  unconscious  as  the  new-born  day, 

With  eyes  that  to  our  noon  in  midnight  bring 

Swift  visions  of  the  morn,  whose  glances  rise 

Fearless  as  sunlight  to  encounter  darkness, 

A  voice  that  blows  like  spring's  fresh  breezes  through 

Our  hot-house  bloom  of  courts,  a  step  as  free 

As  the  wild  mountain  goat's,  a  heart  untaught 

And  so  untainted  —  find  me  such  a  maid 

And  she  shall  wear  a  crown  !     Yea,  though  her  brow 

Knows  not  the  touch  of  gold,  save  when  the  sun 

Beats  amorous  kisses  on  it. 

Florimond. 

But,  my  lord, 

You  do  them  wrong,  the  ladies  of  the  court, 
To  hold  them  slaves  to  ceremony.     Think 
If  you  exact  it  not.     You  wear  your  rank 
Even  as  the  porcupine  his  spears,  that  wound 
The  unwary  handler.     Fold  it  by  awhile, 
This  proud  reserve  and  ill-advised  scorn, 
And  search  some  lady's  eyes  for  gentle  proof 
Of  nature's  rule  in  her.     Trust  me,  your  highness 
Will  fathom  secret  depths  untroubled  by 
Windy  frivolities  of  etiquette. 
But  when  you  find  that  peerless  maid,  my  lord, 
Untaught,  untainted,  free — you  know  the  rest  — 

6 


Methinks  I  would  not  crown  her,  lest  perchance 
Her  wild  charms  stifle  in  our  fevered  air. 
It  is  enough  to  give  such  lowly  grace 
The  left  hand  of  your  favor,  for  the  state 
Claims  the  bestowal  of  your  right,  and  asks 
No  queen  so  savage. 

The  Prince. 

By  this  sword  I  swear 

The  state  that  owns  me  for  its  king  will  take 
The  queen  I  give  it,  though  her  voice  be  tuned 
Unto  a  beggar's  whine,  and  though  her  robes 
Be  ragged  as  the  tatters  of  old  Time. 
And  you  may  tell  the  councilors  of  state 
No  woman  whom  I  love  shall  be  deceived 
With  that  base  homage  which  the  rotting  time 
Pays  to  king's  mistresses.     I  do  not  wish 
To  join  the  crowd  of  noble  dissolutes 
Who  sicken  states  with  rank  airs  of  dishonor, 
Till  strength  and  glory  fall  to  leprosy 
And  ruin  undermines  the  very  throne. 
My  country  has  my  service  ;  to  her  cause 
1  dedicate  my  hands,  my  brain,  my  life. 
I  serve  her  so  devoutly  it  were  treason 
To  give  my  heart  to  any  save  her  queen. 

Florimond. 
'T  is  well  for  kings  all  patriots  think  not  so. 

7 


The  Prince. 
Your  honor's  gone  a-jesting. 

Florimond. 

Nay,  I  applaud 

Your  ardor  in  preparing  bandages 
To  bind  the  wounds  of  Time,  and  make  him  whole. 
His  is  a  scarred  old  visage ;  nevermore 
The  eyes  of  youth  will  open  on  the  world, 
All  innocence  and  wonder.     Since  our  age 
A  sour  and  wrinkled  tyrant  is,  'twere  wise 
To  wear  his  colors,  and  not  flaunt  abroad 
The  flaring  virtue  of  your  youth. 

The  Prince. 

My  friend, 

Ah  !  be  not  thus  the  spokesman  of  the  time, 
And  voice  the  message  that  the  very  air 
Is  heavy  with.     Truth  has  been  drugged  so  long 
She  hangs  her  head  in  shame,  and  men  forget 
The  glory  in  her  eyes.     But  some  there  are 
Who  search  them  still,  and  the  white-souled  old  priest 
Who  taught  me  long  ago  was  one  of  these. 
He  tore  away  the  veil  of  sophistries 
And  gave  me  one  deep  look  into  her  soul, 
And  I  can  not  forget.     Ah  !   Florimond, 
She  yet  will  conquer  !    In  a  fight  with  her 
Our  age  would  infamously  perish.     Come : 


Shall  we  not  greet  her  in  all  friendship,  ere 
She  falls  upon  her  foes? 

Florimond. 

A  miracle! 

A  prince  in  love  with  truth  !     A  despot's  son 
Hoping  to  rule  by  righteousness!     My  lord, 
May  hosts  of  angels  aid  you,  for  I  fear 
Earth's  soldiers  will  not ! 

The  Prince. 

'T  is  a  merry  tune  — 
This  song  of  yours  ! 

Florimond. 

But  I  will  give  you  time. 
A  few  years  near  the  throne  will  wear  away 
The  antique  wisdom  of  the  priest  — 

The  Prince. 

No  more ! 

A  pestilence  is  sweeter  than  your  tongue ! 
I  have  no  taste  for  rankness,  so  will  leave  you 
To  your  amusing  thoughts. 

Florimond. 

I  have  presumed. 
Friends  must  be  frank,  my  lord. 

9 


The  Prince. 

If  you  are  frank, 
Heaven  mend  your  soul  and  guard  your  loyalty  ! 

[Exit  the  Prince.] 

Florimond. 

So  fierce — so  fierce  !     I  'd  rather  be  a  child 
Than  own  a  spirit  rigid  as  a  post, 
And  pointing  one  way  always.     Faugh  !  he  lies 
Secure  within  my  hand.     Good  saints  in  heaven ! 
'T  is  the  same  Psyche  in  the  beggar's  robe. 
Now  for  an  ambush.     So. 

[Valeria  reappears.] 

Valeria. 

Alas!  alas! 

Why  must  I  dream  of  kings  and  palaces, 
And  wear  these  rags,  sleep  'neath  the  staring  stars, 
And  learn  new  songs  forever  till  I  die ! 
Oh,  I  must  think  no  more.     A  song!  a  song  ! 
Best  dance  and  sing,  and  so  wear  out  the  day. 

[She  sings,  and  dances  wildly. 1 

Dance  on,  children  of  song,  over  the  hills  with  me ; 

Haste  down,  out  of  the  clouds,  down  to  the  sunlit  sea. 

Wild  winds  sweep  us  afar  out  of  the  heights  they  sway. 

Ah,  come  !  breathe  of  the  south,  buried  in  blue — away  ! 

Come,  win  kingdoms  of  light  ;   crown  ye  with  summer's 
praise. 

Sing  !  dance  !  tune  me  your  lutes,  wreathe  them  with  death 
less  bays,  f 

10 


Are  ye  beggars  that  rove,  heirs  of  the  proud  world's  scorn  ?  •+• 
Nay,  kings  !  dowered  with  wealth  richer  than  gold  of  morn. 

[Reenter  the  Prince,  who  listens  unnoticed.] 

On,  on  !     Ours  is  the  truth  ;  deep  in  her  heart  we  read. 

We  give  glory  to  fame,  life  to  the  mighty  deed. 

Gods    we  —  conquering    death,    wreathing  his  brow   with 

flowers. 
Give  earth  all  to  her  slaves— heaven  and  time  are  ours ! 

Then  dance  —  far  and  away  — 

[She  reels,  overpowered  by  the  heat.] 

Where  is  the  song  gone?     Oh,  my  heart!  my  heart! 
God !  is  this  death  ? 

[She  falls  fainting.     The  Prince  hastens  to  her  and  raises  her  head  on 
his  knee.     Florimond  approaches.] 


Tbe  Prince. 
Some  water,  Florimond ! 

Florimond. 
Here  's  wine,  my  lord. 

[The  Prince  forces  wine  into  her  mouth,  but  she  does  not  revive. 
He  then  blows  a  signal  on  his  bugle  twice,  which  is  repeated  from 
the  palace  far  away.  ] 

The  Prince. 

She  is  more  beautiful 
Than  is  the  face  of  glory  to  the  brave. 


Florimond. 
More  fair  than  death.  ^L 

The  Prince. 

Be  still — she  is  not  dead  ! 
No  Spartan  girl  could  sing  her  soul  to  sleep 
With  words  so  like  life's  song  of  triumph.     Look! 
See  you  the  horsemen  ? 

Florimond. 

Down  the  road  I  see 
Their  plumes  lie  prone  upon  the  wind  for  speed. •/- 

The  Prince. 

Her  voice  was  like  the  dawn  across  a  sea, 
Making  the  old  world  quiver  with  new  light.  / 
God  !  thou  wilt  not  eclipse  it ! 

Florimond. 

The  sun  was  jealous, 
Viewing  in  her  a  rival  luminary 
Which  he  must  conquer  ere  the  world  be  shaken 
From  its  proud  balance.     Will  you  dare  undo 
His  scorching  work,  unveil  those  dangerous  eyes, 
So  harmless  now  ? 

The  Prince. 

Have  we  another  Helen 
In  this  poor  child,  and  would  you  let  her  die 


That  the  brown  world  may  hold  its  smooth  career? 
Nay,  nay — not  all  of  us  together  reach 
The  value  of  such  beauty.     Ah  !  they  come  ! 

[Enter,  on  a  gallop,  six  or  eight  guardsmen  with  an  officer,  who 
swiftly  dismounts  and  salutes.] 

Back,  half  of  you,  and  from  the  palace  hither 
Bring  food,  wine,  water,  leeches,  and  a  litter. 
Haste,  as  you  love  me !     You  who  stay,  approach, 
And  make  your  arms  a  couch.     We  '11  follow  them 
Far  as  the  spring  and  dew  these  secret  eyes.f- 
Lightly  as  a  young  lily  rises  up 
From  the  dull  blackness  of  ancestral  earth 
Does  she  escape  her  fate  in  these  our  arms. 

Florimond. 
To  be  the  fire-brand  in  fate's  hand,  perchance. 

The  Prince. 

Ay,  or  the  torch,  to  scatter  healing  light 
Among  the  foul  illusions  of  our  time. 

[Exeunt  omnes.] 

[Curtain.] 


Persons  of  tbe  Play. 

THE  KING. 

PRINCE  ANDREA,  son  to  the  King. 

FLORIMOND,  Count  of  Vancua,  friend  to  the  Prince. 

COUNT  LEONE,  friend  to  the  Prince. 

AGNOLO,  a  courtier. 

FILIPPO,  a  courtier. 

CARDINAL  ORTUS. 

CAPTAIN  of  the  King's  Guard. 

COURTIERS,  GUARDSMEN,  SOLDIERS,  CITIZENS. 

LIPERATA,  sister  to  the  King. 

TORA,  her  daughter. 

PIERA,  friend  to  Tora. 

OLIVIA. 

VALERIA,  musician  and  raconteur  in  the  King's  court. 

LADIES    OF    THE  COURT,   WOMEN   OF   THE   PEOPLE, 
AND    DANCING    GIRLS. 


Five  years  elapse  between  the  Prologue  and  the  opening 
of  the  Play. 


ACT    I 


SCENE. — The  garden  of  a  palace  at  night.  Lights  hang  in  the  trees, 
and  beautiful  statues,  fountains,  and  flowers  are  visible.  Enter 
the  old  and  gray  Cardinal  Ortus  with  Florimond,  who  carries 
negligently  a  mask  and  domino. 


Florimond. 

And  so  you  think  the  honor  of  our  house 
Sleeps  in  my  charge. 

Cardinal. 

Say  rather  dies,  my  lord. 
1  have  been  silent  till  each  drop  of  blood 
Your  father  lost  seems  like  a  ghost  in  arms, 
And  all  rise  to  reproach  me.     I  have  watched 
While  you  bedraped  that  princeling  like  his  cloak, 
Breathing  his  sighs,  urging  your  willing  wit 
To  whet  his  laughter,  and  have  said  no  word 
Because  I  thought  no  scion  of  your  race 
Could  live  long  in  dishonor.     But  it  seems 
Red  blood  is  water  in  your  veins.    You  owe 
No  fealty  to  the  dead.     You  have  forgot 
This  king  is  but  a  tyrant,  who  betrayed 
19 


Freedom,  and  killed  your  father  like  a  dog. 
What  other  state  in  Italy  would  thus 
Endure  him  ?     Who,  the  head  of  a  great  house, 
Would  let  his  father's  blood  rot  unavenged, 
And  revel  with  his  foes  ? 

Florimond. 

Where  is  the  proof 
Of  such  grave  charges  ? 

Cardinal. 

Proof!  That  mask  and  gown 
Are  proof  enough.     You  are  a  courtier  here. 
You  let  them  drag  you  from  his  very  bier 
To  fix  you  in  the  palace,  load  your  back 
With  precious  favors —  take  you  to  their  hearts, 
And  so  efface  the  stain,  the  memory 
Of  that  great  wrong.     By  heaven  !  't  were  nobler  far 
To  seek  an  exile  in  the  desert  plains 
Of  Africa,  than  here  to  live  enriched 
And  be  their  friend. 

Florimond. 

You  are  too  hot, -my  lord. 
What  if  I  too  remember,  seem  their  friend 
But  for  an  end? 

Cardinal. 

I  tried  to  hope  so  once ; 

But  years  have  stretched  my  hope  out  to  a  hair, 
And  now  even  that  has  snapped. 


Florimond. 

What  is  the  cause? 

Cardinal. 

Love  is  the  cause.     You  love  Valeria  — 
A  beggar  whom  this  prince  plucked  from  the  highway 
To  be  his  plaything. 

Florimond. 

And  if  I  do,  again 
What  is  the  cause  ? 

Cardinal. 

She  is  adroit,  ambitious. 
You  are  oblivious,  and  to  gain  your  end 
Would  give  o'er  all,  and  marry  her,  and  live 
In  slothful  servitude  forever. 

Florimond. 

Ho! 

You  need  not  fear.     The  house  of  Vancua 
Will  never  stoop  so  low.     Ah,  you  are  blind! 
Think  you,  if  love  were  all  of  life  to  me 
The  rattling  tongues  of  gossips  would  be  weary 
With  jesting  on  my  passion?     Be  assured 
I  can  be  secret  when  I  choose.     The  fools  — 
They  must  have  food  for  chatter  —  should  I  starve 
Their  eager  appetites  they  might  assail 
The  stronghold  of  our  secrets.     'T  is  for  this 


I  stuff  them  with  a  show  of  burning  love 
For  the  king's  minstrel  ;  feeling,  I  confess, 
Tender  enough  to  make  the  semblance  sweet. 
No  more  of  that !     By  heaven  !  your  bitter  words 
Would  anger  me,  were  I  not  overjoyed 
To  find  you  still  so  ardent. 

Cardinal. 

You  have  had 

No  cause  to  doubt  my  ardor.     In  this  court 
I  hold  no  office,  take  no  gold  of  theirs, 
Give  them  no  bows,  no  laughter. 

Florimond. 

By  my  sword,  -f- 

Think  you  I  am  a  baby  to  be  whipped? 
What  if  I  tell  you  that  the  lagging  years, 
By  you  passed  in  lamenting,  have  by  me 
Been  consecrated  to  our  sacred  cause ! 
No  word  that  I  have  uttered  — ay,  no  jest 
That  I  have  shot  into  the  frivolous  ears 
Of  the  young  prince,  but  has  availed  me  much 
In  power.     Where  would  our  vengeance  sleep  to-day 
If  I  had  worn  my  hatred  as  a  cloak 
To  keep  me  warm  in  exile  ?     Like  a  cedar 
Firm-rooted  and  strong-hearted  would  arise 
The  green  strength  of  their  rule,  secure  against 
The  black  looks  of  unweaponed  enemies. 


I  tell  you,  sir,  this  growth  which  seems  so  fair, 
This  kingdom  that  now  shakes  its  leaves  aloft 
In  the  clear  air  of  nations,  in  whose  shade 
The  earth  smiles  with  new  fruitfulness, — I  say 
'T  is  hollow  with  disease.     One  blow  from  me 
And  it  will  fall. 

Cardinal. 

Is  not  the  moment  ripe 
For  such  a  blow  ?     Why  will  you  idly  see 
Their  throne  cemented  by  these  victories? 
To-morrow  brings  the  prince  in  triumph  home, 
Lauded  and  garlanded.     Your  brow  is  bare, 
Though  well  the  soldier's  laurel  would  become 
Such  liberal  youth. 

Fhrimond. 

Where  are  your  thoughts,  my  lord? 
I  will  not  fight  their  battles,  and  besides, 
This  king,  who  thinks  he  has  lulled  my  soul  asleep, 
Were  but  a  fool  to  send  it  to  the  wars 
And  bid  it  waken  in  the  clash  of  arms. 
Ah,  no!  he  loves  me  with  such  constancy 
I  must  be  always  near  him,  though  the  fight 
Should  fail  for  lack  of  me.     The  old  basilisk 
Would  charm  me  by  his  glance.     He  fears  my  wings 
If  once  I  try  them.     He  does  not  suspect, 
Nor  you,  how  free  I  am,  how  strong  I  shall  be. 
I  can  be  patient.     While  he  wastes  his  power 
23 


In  irritating  wars,  paying  for  glory 

The  people's  loyalty,  I  stand  aloof 

And  urge  the  impatient  crowd  to  secret  hate, 

Waiting  the  hour  when  I  may  lead  them  on 

To  revolution. 

Cardinal. 
You  are  working,  then  ? 

Florimond. 

I  have  not  lost  an  hour  since  you  and  I 
Received  my  father's  heritage  of  wrong. 
This  very  night  I  might  escape  the  palace  — 
I  have  a  friend  among  the  sentinels — 
And  hasten  to  our  friends,  who  often  meet 
To  hear  my  secret  words  of  hope  and  wrath. 
Say  —  have  you  done  so  much? 

Cardinal. 

Alas,  my  son, 

Forgive  me  if  I  saw  no  other  course 
Save  exile  for  my  honor.     I  've  no  skill 
To  play  a  double  part.     I  should  betray 
The  hatred  in  my  heart  and  lose  us  all. 
You  know  not  how  reluctantly  I  wear 
Even  for  a  day  the  mask  of  friendship  here. 
They  told  me  you  were  sunk  in  lethargy, 
Dead  to  your  honor.     I  had  watched  in  vain 
For  any  sign  of  life  from  you,  and  so 
24 


I  came  to  tell  you  who  you  are.     But  now 
I  know  that  you  remember,  and  my  soul 
Which  stifles  here  will  seek  its  liberty. 
To-morrow  I  depart. 

Florimond. 

Can  you  not  gain 
His  Holiness  to  aid  our  cause  ? 

Cardinal. 

The  pope? 
I  bear  congratulations  to  the  king 

From  him.     His  thoughts  are  centered  nearer  home 

He  would  not  listen. 

Florimond. 

If  you  only  knew 

How  cruel  is  this  secrecy,  how  blindly 
Dense  clouds  of  doubt  envelop  me,  which  seem 
To  cover  an  abyss  where  I  must  fall ! 
I  hold  the  reins  o'er  many  foaming  steeds 
That  dash  along  a  precipice.     My  hands 
Grow  weary  of  the  strain  ;  yet  if  they  tremble 
Our  hope  is  ruin.     Lend  me  your  arms  awhile, 
And  we  will  hatch  a  plan  shall  make  them  dance  — 
These  sanguine  fools! 

Cardinal. 

What  would  you  have  me  do? 

25 


Florimond. 

I  would  present  you  to  our  friends,  and  say: 
Three  thousand  men-at-arms  in  his  domain 
Ignobly  toil,  who  wait  our  call  alone 
To  march  to  our  deliverance.     Bid  them  come ! 
Be  brave  for  freedom,  rouse  your  laggard  wrath, 
Strike  the  usurper!     Sir,  I  never  dreamed 
Of  liberty  if  that  were  not  enough 
To  arm  her  for  the  battle. 

Cardinal. 

All  I  have 

Is  yours  for  this  good  cause  —  five  thousand  men 
Instead  of  three.     My  treasure  all  is  yours, 
My  voice  as  well,  though  little  skill  is  mine 
To  move  the  vulgar  to  my  purposes. 
Do  with  me  as  you  will. 

[Laughing  voices  are  heard  approaching.  Cardinal  Ortus  and 
Florimond  retire  a  little,  Florimond  covering  himself  with  his 
domino.  Enter,  gaily  talking,  a  troop  of  masked  revelers  — 
Piera,  Tora,  Valeria,  Filippo,  and  others.] 

Pier  a. 

He  slipped  us  here. 

Florimond. 

They  must  not  find  my  father's  friend  and  me 
So  close  in  talk.     The  king  has  jealous  eyes 
Under  his  brow  of  clemency. 
26 


Valeria. 

Forbear ! 

He  is  the  son  of  darkness — he  is  gone 
To  join  his  father  Night.     We  '11  search  no  more ! 

Filippo. 
His  father  Night  is  here,  yet  he  is  not. 

Pier  a. 

Night  has  devoured  his  offspring  then  ;  1  know 
He  fled  to  it.  ^ 

Valeria. 

O  parent  pitiless ! 
Was  that  thy  greeting  ? 

Filippo. 

Out  of  the  peril,  then. 

[Filippo  tries  to  hold  back  Valeria;  but  she  escapes  him,  runs 
across  stage,  and  out  at  the  other  side,  followed  with  wild 
laughter  by  the  rest.] 

Cardinal. 
You  know  that  voice ! 

Florimond. 

It  is  Valeria. 

Cardinal. 

You  are  in  danger,  Florimond.     Beware 
Lest  honor's  drum  and  cymbals  stir  your  blood 
Less  than  the  reed  of  love. 


Florimond. 

You  are  suspicious. 

This  flower  upon  my  breast  will  not  retard 
My  march  to  yonder  white-browed  mountain-top. 

Cardinal. 

No,  but  to  lie  upon  a  bank  of  flowers, 
Breathing  their  soporific  soft  perfumes, 
Will  much  retard  your  march.     And  I  do  fear 
This  beggar  of  the  court.     Her  eyes  burn  low, 
Smoldering  a  fire  that  one  provoking  touch 
Will  quicken  into  soul-consuming  flame. 
Ah,  son,  love  is  the  death  of  great  designs —  %• 
Destroy  it ! 

Florimond. 

Cardinal,  it  is  repose. 
If  I  lie  lazy  in  the  lap  of  love 
'T  is  but  the  lion  dreaming. 

Cardinal. 

Long  ago 

A  hero  dreamed  thus  idly,  and  awoke 
Shorn  of  his  strength. 

Florimond. 

He  was  a  fool  as  well. 

Content  you,  Cardinal.     And  now  make  haste 
Back  to  the  palace,  for  I  hear  them  coming. 
Soon  I  will  follow. 

28 


Cardinal. 

If  I  trust  you  not 
There  is  no  hope.      Think  of  your  father's  blood  — 

Be  true. 

Florimond. 

My  father's  blood  be  on  my  head 
If  I  have  lied  ! 

Cardinal. 

There  speaks  the  Vancua ! 
Man,  I  will  doubt  no  more  —  my  hand  upon  it. 

Florimond. 
Good-night. 

[Exit  the  Cardinal.] 

How  fierce  he  is  to  eat  unripe 
The  fruit  I  shall  watch  mellow  on  the  bough 
Before  I  touch  it — time  enough  and  more 
For  soft  encounters  with  Valeria. 
Surely  she  is  the  daintiest  thing  that  ever 
Tempted  the  lips  of  princes.     All  is  still  — 
They  have  forsook  the  search,  gone  to  the  palace. 
Now  will  the  hare  turn  hunter. 

[Enter  Valeria  stealthily.     A  lute  is  slung  over  her  shoulder.     She 
is  startled  at  seeing  him.] 

Valeria. 

Ah,  my  lord, 

You  are  a  favorite ;  a  moment  since 
A  dozen  revelers  scoured  the  darkness  for  you. 
You'll  find  them  at  the  palace. 
29 


Florimond. 

Sweet  tormentor, 

What  do  I  care  for  revels,  save  when  you 
Make  light  and  music  of  them  ?     Do  not  think 
Now  to  escape  me.     Do  you  know  how  long 
The  weary  days  have  chased  the  nights  away 
Since  you  and  I  have  found  an  hour  alone  ? 

Valeria. 

Alas,  my  lord,  twice  hath  the  sky  grown  black 
To  mourn  the  muteness  of  your  passion. 

Florimond. 

Nay— 

It  seems  a  weary  year,  for  every  hour 
Thine  eyes  do  not  illumine  wears  for  me 
Night's  black  complexion.     O  Valeria, 
Thy  beauty  is  the  sun  of  my  delight. 
Why  does  it  always  wear  a  veil  of  frowns 
Or  smiles  more  cold  ? 

Valeria. 

My  lord  knows  it  is  death 
To  stand  in  the  hot  sunlight  of  the  south. 
I  would  not  kill  him  with  unguarded  favor  — 
Therefore  his  skies  are  gray. 

Florimond. 

But  I  would  toss 

Life  to  the  winds  to  feel  but  one  swift  flash 
Of  such  unutterable  rapture. 
30 


Valeria. 

No, 

Life  is  too  dear  a  thing  to  toss  away. 
I  fear  me  death  has  heard  your  bold  defiance 
And  but  awaits  my  yielding  to  accept  it. 

Florimond. 

Oh,  you  are  flippant  as  the  summer  winds! 
I  will  not  bow  forever  at  the  breath 
Of  your  wild  coquetry.     Mock  me  no  more! 
Hear  me — I  love  you 

Valeria. 

What  my  lord  says  now 
He  oft  has  said  before. 

Florimond. 

But  nevermore 

Will  he  be  paid  with  folly.     If  my  love 
Rise  to  your  heart  in  rapture,  you  are  mine  — 
Now — ever!     If  you  spurn  it  you  shall  know 
The  force  of  what  you  spurn.     This  is  the  end. 
I  am  no  dangler  of  the  court,  content 
To  take  one  smile  in  twenty,  to  be  paid 
For  my  heart's  wealth  with  laughter.     Give  me  now 
All  that  I  ask,  or  by  the  saints  — 

Valeria. 

My  lord  — 

And  if  I  loved  a  man  of  ancient  name, 
High  in  the  state  —  the  plume  in  fortune's  cap, 
31 


What  would  it  profit  my  unworthiness, 
Whose  ancestry  was  heedless  as  the  birds, 
That  think  of  naught  but  song? 

Florimond. 

It  might  avail, 

If  he  you  loved  could  soar  to  heaven  with  you, 
To  set  an  earthly  title  on  that  brow 
Imperial  nature  crowned  with  beauty. 

Valeria. 

Ah! 

Too  many  voices  call  you,  and  to  all 
You  lend  a  willing  ear.     To-night 't  is  love, 
And  the  enchanting  music  of  his  lute 
Lulls  you  to  dreams  till  you  forget  the  world. 
To-morrow  glory  will  awake  your  soul, 
And  love  will  be  forgotten. 

Florimond. 

Say  you  so  ? 

My  ship  is  anchored  in  the  harbor  there. 
Come  —  let  us  sail  to-morrow  far  away, 
And  hear  love's  voice  forever! 

Valeria. 

Know  you  not 

I  am  the  plaything  of  the  court,  the  jester 
These  idle  nobles  bandy  words  with  ?     Faugh  ! 
A  little  petted  by  the  king  —  permitted 
32 


Close  to  his  ear,  because  my  voice  is  sweet 

And  songs  delight  his  soul.     But  have  you  noted 

How  the  great  ladies  kindle  to  disdain 

If  my  heart  bounds  across  the  chasm  between  us  ? 

They  suffer  me  for  laughter  or  for  song, — 

'T  is  the  king's  will,  forsooth,  and  must  be  borne, — 

But  never  fellowship.     Hast  thou  seen  this, 

And  durst  thou  try  to  lift  me  to  their  rank, 

When  failure  means  thy  shame  ? 

Florimond. 

Valeria, 

Beyond  the  waters  many  a  kingdom  lies 
Beside  whose  spacious  acres  this  our  country 
Is  but  a  handsbreadth.     Let  us  sail  away, 
And  seek  great  kings  who  know  of  thee  and  me 
Naught  save  the  name  they  cannot  choose  but  honor. 
There  shall  thy  beauty  shine  unclouded;  there 
The  rank  God  gave  thee  men  shall  not  dispute  — 
These  heathenish  men, who  see  how  fair  thou  art, 
And  ask  some  other  proof  of  noble  race 
-1— Than  eyes  divinely  lit,  hair  all  aglow, 

A  voice  from  heaven's  own  choir,  and  cheeks  that  flush 

Even  now  to  feel  the  breath  of  homage.     Come! 

And  we  will  drift  across  long  languid  days, 

And  feel  the  salt  wind  on  our  brows,  and  watch 

The  red  sun  bear  his  train  into  the  sea, 

And  leave  the  sky  aglow  with  stars.     Ah,  come! 

Hence  on  white  wings  to  paradise! 

33 


Valeria. 

I  fear 

Thy  words  have  white  wings,  for  my  soul  is  borne 
Half  way  to  paradise  already. 

Florimond. 

Ah! 
Thou  lov'st  me  then? 

Valeria. 

Thou  canst  not  guess  how  long 
Thy  face  has  haunted  me.     A  child  was  I 
When  thou  didst  check  thy  steed,  and  wait,  and  gaze, 
And  listen  to  my  song.     The  coin  thou  threwest  — 
See,  I  have  kept  it,  though  I  hungered  oft 
And  this  would  buy  a  feast.     I  hungered  oft, 
But  death  seemed  easier  than  the  loss  of  it. 

Florimond. 

\  too  remember  well  that  day,  dear  love. 
My  heart  was  surfeited  with  shows  of  things 
When  thy  voice  spake  from  heaven  unto  my  soul, 
And  taught  mine  ears  the  sweeping  harmonies 
Thy  spirit  caught  afar.     Ah  !  sing  me  now 
One  song  that  I  may  treasure  as  mine  own, 
That  none  have  heard  nor  shall  hear.     Let  thy  heart 
Confess  to  me  in  melody.     I  wait 
To  hear  how  well  thou  lov'st  me. 

34 


Valeria. 

Ask  no  more  ! 

How  do  I  know  if  this  be  love  which  shines 
Alluring  as  a  torch  ?     My  fate  has  bowed 
To  such  strange  thoughts.     Even  when  I  saw  thee  first 
Thy  splendor  dazed  my  soul,  and  evermore 
The  thought  of  thee  suggested  palaces 
And  kings  and  fair  maids  feasting  in  delight, 
And  filled  my  heart  with  longing  and  despair. 
But  was  this  love  of  thee  or  love  of  me, 
Who  can  remember  not  one  day  of  life 
Unwarmed  by  hot  desire  of  greatness?     Ah! 
Oft  in  my  mother's  arms  beside  the  sea 
My  sobs  have  met  the  moaning  of  the  waves 
For  all  earth's  glory  that  I  might  not  share ; 
And  when  I  wandered  forth  to  sing,  my  voice 
Was  freighted  with  this  passion,  and  would  bear 
Swift  thought  beyond  the  dust  of  humble  ways, 
To  walk  with  kings.     'T  is  so  even  here  —  to-day. 
Now  that  old  dreams  are  firm  realities 
New  fancies  float  above  them,  and  perchance 
If  those  were  mine  not  yet  would  sweet  content 
Brush  off  the  dust  from  eyes  grown  blind  to  truth. 

Florimond. 

Let  love  perform  that  office !     He  alone 
Has  power  to  wake  thy  life  to  happiness. 
The  longings  of  the  old  time  and  the  new 

35 


Were  but  vague  gropings  toward  his  glorious  light. 
This  bright  dawn  will  absorb  the  vapors,  sweet, 
Thy  rich  imaginings — ah,  let  it  rule! 
Look  in  my  eyes  and  say  thou  hast  forgot 
Time  and  the  luring  world. 

Valeria .      [With  steadfast  gaze. ] 

Upon  my  soul 
I  think  I  love  thee. 

Florimond. 

Nay,  I  know  thou  dost. 

Now  let  the  world  grow  gray — our  hearts  are  gold  ! 
This  for  immortal  joy! 

[He  kisses  her.] 
VaUfia.       [Shuddering.] 

Immortal!     Ah! 

To-day  is  ours;  to-morrow — who  shall  tell 
If  God  or  devil  grasp  it  ?     It  is  strange — 
There  is  some  boding  in  my  deepest  heart. 
But — dost  thou  truly  love  me? 

Florimond. 

Love!     The  rose 
Less  dear  is  to  the  bee  than  thou  to  me. 

Valeria. 
And  wilt  thou  ever? 

Florimond. 

While  my  soul  has  breath. 

36 


Valeria. 
Speak  not  so  lightly. 

[She  recoils  with  a  sudden  thought ;  then,  suppressing  her  emotion, 
continues.] 

If  thou  lov'st  me  then 

Go  back  and  seek  the  masquers.     Leave  me  here. 
Go  —  I  must  be  alone  ! 

Florimond. 

What  dost  thou  mean  ? 

Valeria. 

I  mean  a  thousand  things —  I  mean  —  my  head 
Is  whirling  and  must  think.  Oh,  do  not  tarry! 
Wilt  thou  deny  my  little  first  request? 

Florimond. 

Nay,  but  what  means  this  sudden  swift  alarm  ? 
The  hour  is  peaceful.  'Neath  the  tent  of  night 
We  may  prepare  our  wings  for  flight. 

Valeria. 

Not  now  — 

To-morrow,  not  to-day. 

Florimond. 

To-morrow  eve 
Our  boat  shall  sail  away — Oh,  pledge  me  that ! 

Valeria. 

Soon,  soon,  my  lord,  if  you  deny  me  not. 
Good-night  ! 

37 


Florimond. 

\  '11  not  deny  thee.     Give  me  now 
The  jewel  of  thy  love  set  in  a  song, 
And  I  will  leave  thee,  bearing  in  my  heart 
So  rich  a  dower  a  king  might  envy  me 
That  pearl  of  memory  and  hope. 

Valeria. 

A  song? 
Thou  hast  it  then  ! 

[She  sings  softly,  at  first  slowly  and  searchingly,  then  rapidly 
and  with  intense  enthusiasm.] 

I  love  thee  —  my  heart 

Hath  its  secret  no  more ! 
I  love  thee  ;  thou  art 

All  of  earth  I  adore. 
Thy  strength  is  my  shield 

And  thy  glory  my  crown. 
To  thy  keeping  I  yield 

Thought,  desire,  and  renown. 

Three  treasures  I  bring, 

Like  the  wise  men  of  old 
Who  gave  to  our  King 

Myrrh,  incense,  and  gold. 
Here  is  beauty  for  wealth, 

And  for  perfume  a  song : 
Tears  for  myrrh  fall  by  stealth 

From  a  rapture  too  strong. 
38 


Come,  take  me  !     My  soul 

To  thy  search  is  laid  bare, 
And  thy  touch  doth  control 

All  my  life  unaware. 
I  love  thee  — and  thou — 

If  thy  vows  are  but  truth, 
What 's  the  world  to  us  now? 

What  is  time  to  our  youth  ? 

Flofimotld.     [Seizing  her  and  gazing  in  her  eyes.] 

Turn  to  me  !  look  at  me  ! 
Am  I  a  block  that  you  should  sing  such  words, 
And  gaze  in  air  ? 

Valeria. 
Loose  me — what  did  I  say? 

Florimond. 
Woman  or  sphinx,  what  art  thou — stone  or  fire? 

Valeria. 
Oh,  leave  me  !  leave  me  !     Do  not  think  of  me  ! 

Florimond.  \ 

My  soul  shall  think  of  nothing  else  forever, 
My  changeling.     'T  is  thy  blessing  or  thy  curse, 
Whichever  thou  shalt  choose. 

Valeria. 

Wilt  thou  not  go  ? 

39 


Florimond. 

Thou  dost  but  dream,  thou  merciless,  virgin  thing. 
To  teach  thee  what  love  is — that  would  be  brave 
Beyond  man's  power.     A  god  or  fool  might  do  it. 
I  look  into  thine  eyes  and  hardly  dare. 
There  's  something  in  thy  soul  love  must  beware,     \ 
A  mortal  challenge.     I  will  answer  it — 
Adore  thee,  conquer  thee,  and  make  thee  mine. 

Valeria. 

Or  kill  me. 

« 

Florimond. 

Mine  or  death's.     Ay,  thou  shalt  choose 
Me  or  the  grave. 

[Exit  Florimond.] 

Valeria. 

Fool !  fool !  what  have  I  done  ? 
I  do  not  love  him  thus — no,  no  —  not  thus  ! 
Why  did  I  sing?     There  is  enchantment  in  it  — 
This  music  makes  me  mad  !     Alas!  alas! 
What  wild  words  did  I  utter — and  to  him  ! 
That  man  has  cast  a  spell  about  me  ;  yet 
I  dare  not  call  it  love,  save  when  his  eyes 
Are  gazing  into  mine,  and  all  the  world 
Seems  far  away  and  buried  in  the  past. 
Let  me  forget  it  all,  and  close  my  lips 
Lest  witchcraft  force  a  song  from  them. 
40 


The  prince  — 

I  had  almost  forgot  the  prince's  order. 
But  'tis  the  hour  and  I  am  here  alone  — 
Yet  through  what  chances!     If  the  messenger 
Had  found  him  here  ! 

I  wonder  what  the  prince 
Desires  of  me,  that  he  should  send  to-night 
A  special  courier  from  the  slumbering  host — 
The  gentle  prince,  who  seems  so  like  a  child, 
And  yet  wins  battles !     Let  me  read  again 
The  note  he  sent  me. 

[Takes  a  paper  from  her  pocket.  ] 

At  the  hour  of  twelve 
Be  near  the  thicket  in  the  grounds  alone. 
There  one  will  meet  thee  from  the  prince,  who  hath 
Much  to  inform  thee  of.     Alone — he  faithful. 

It  is  past  twelve. 

[The  Prince  has  entered  quietly  at  rear,  in  mask  and  domino.  Ap 
proaching,  he  removes  his  mask,  and  softly  seizes  the  paper  from 
her  hand.] 

The  Prince. 
Behold  the  messenger ! 

Valeria. 
Your  highness! 

The  Prince. 
Hush! 


Valeria. 
What  means  this  ? 

The  Prince. 

\  could  trust 

No  other  lips  to-night.     How  true  thou  art ! 
I  knew  thou  wouldst  be  here. 

Valeria. 

Alas,  my  lord ! 

I  am  a  thing  inconstant  to  all  else 
Save  this  mad  music  that  enslaves  me  so. 

The  Prince. 
Nay,  do  not  wrong  thyself. 

Valeria. 

The  truth  can  do 
No  wrong.     What  wouldst  thou  say  to  me  ? 

Tbe  Prince. 

My  heart 
Is  busy  with  old  dreams,  Valeria. 

Valeria. 

Your  highness  has  the  power — the  power.     Ah  me! 
You  need  not  dream. 

The  Prince. 

But  dost  thou  know  my  dream  ? 
42 


Valeria. 

Old  fires  rekindle,  old  ambitions  flash 
To  flame  in  this  great  triumph  —  is  it  this? 

The  Prince. 

Would  such  thoughts  bring  me  here  disguised,  alone, 
Where  glory  will  receive  me  open-armed 
To-morrow  ? 

Valeria. 

Let  my  praises  be  the  first. 
You  have  been  brave  indeed,  and  all  the  world 
Is  trumpeting  your  fame. 

The  Prince. 

Speak  not  of  that. 

Thy  praise  the  jewel  is  in  glory's  crown, 
But  do  not  give  it  now.     My  soul  is  filled 
With  humbleness  to-night.     The  waves  of  triumph 
May  bear  me  high  to-morrow,  but  not  now. 
I  have  done  nothing,  or  so  poor  a  thing 
It  is  not  worth  a  breath,  except — 

Valeria. 

Except  ? 

The  Prince. 

One  blessing  it  has  brought,  so  dear,  so  sweet, 
Power  cannot  rival  it,  though  I  should  make 
This  hill  the  center  of  the  world. 

43 


Valeria. 

And  that  — 

The  Prince. 

Hast  thou  not  guessed?   You  women,  I  have  heard, 
Scent  out  these  precious  secrets  of  our  hearts. 

Valeria. 

I  am  too  little  womanly,  your  highness  — 
Alas  —  too  little  womanly  ! 

The  Prince. 

Thou  art 

The  only  woman  in  the  world  for  me. 
This  is  my  message  —  I  have  come  to  say 
I  love  thee. 

Valeria. 
Oh,  be  merciful  ! 

The  Prince. 

But  why 
Am  I  unmerciful? 

Valeria. 

You  love  me  —  you  ? 

The  Prince. 

What !  am  I  more  or  less  than  man  to  thee  ? 
Have  I  no  eyes  for  beauty,  and  no  heart 
To  waken  to  love's  music  ? 


Valeria. 

Say  no  more  — 

I  cannot  bear  it.     You  have  ranked  so  high 
In  my  soul's  gratitude  —  how  can  I  live 
And  hear  dishonor  from  you  ?     Heaven  knows 
I  have  beheld  the  rampant  vice  of  the  time, 
But  never  hugged  it.     Have  you  found  a  charm 
To  make  it  lovelier  ?     If  your  highness  please, 
No  more  of  this  !     Why  did  you  send  for  me  ? 

The  Prince. 

Not  for  dishonor  —  by  my  soul  I  swear  it! 
I  have  no  thought  thou  mayst  not  share.     My  heart 
Lies  open  to  thy  questioning. 

Valeria. 

And  yet 
You  speak  of  love  between  us  —  between  us? 

The  Prince. 

Thou  know'st  not  how  my  heart  has  ached  with  it 
For  five  long  years,  and  yet  has  made  no  sign 
Lest  the  hot  breath  of  slander  should  assail  thee. 
I  loved  thee  from  the  first.     I  never  knew 
A  thought  of  women  till  I  heard  thy  song 
And  saw  the  sunlight  of  thy  face  go  out 
And  leave  all  dark  in  the  world.     But  since  that  hour 
One  hope  has  been  the  purpose  of  my  life, 

45 


The  star  that  guided  all  my  striving.     Now 
It  leads  me  to  the  gates  of  paradise, 
And  thou  shalt  open  them. 

Valeria. 

Upon  my  soul, 

My  lord  is  in  a  jesting  mood  to-night 

I  understand  him  not. 

The  Prince. 

Is  it  so  strange 

That  I  should  throw  my  fortunes  at  thy  feet  ? 
If  thou  but  knew  how  I  have  worked  for  this, 
How  I  have  planned,  fought,  labored,  though  the  sun 
Shone  hot  upon  my  youth,  and  bade  me  pause. 
My  jewels  of  renown  are  all  for  thee  ; 
My  victories  are  thine  —  they  have  been  won 
To  make  thy  crown  the  brighter,  for  at  last 
I  have  the  right  to  wed  thee. 

Valeria. 

Are  you  mad  ? 

What  mean  you  ?     Me,  a  beggar  —  me,  a  weed 
Plucked  from  the  highway  !     You  would  marry  me  ? 
Impossible  !     You  have  forgot  the  king. 

The  Prince. 

I  have  forgotten  nothing.     Dear  my  heart, 
Why  dost  thou  doubt  me  ?     Do  I  love  deceit  ? 

46 


Vakria. 

No,  no,  I  cannot  doubt  you,  though  my  mind 
Gropes  blindly  and  in  vain. 

Tbe  Prince. 

Then  will  I  lead  it 

Forth  to  the  light,  for  I  will  tell  thee  all. 
My  father  loves  me ;  he  who  seems  so  cold 
Keeps  yet  his  heart  green  for  his  son,  and  fresh 
With  constant  thoughts  strewn  o'er  a  grave  long  closed. 
He  loves  me,  and  the  subtle  power  of  love 
Can  bend  the  will  of  kings,  Valeria. 
Thus  did  I  gain  thy  entrance  to  the  court, 
The  usage  due  a  maid  of  rank  for  thee, 
And  all  that  nurture  of  thy  highest  thought 
Which  makes  men  marvel  at  thy  learning  now, 
And  seek  thee  more  than  princesses.     Through  all 
I  guarded  well  the  secret  of  my  love. 
'T  was  but  a  whim,  forsooth,  this  wondrous  child—- 
Too  beautiful  for  soiling  in  the  dust, 
A  voice  too  rich  to  beat  the  vacant  air 
When  courtly  ears  are  longing  for  a  song ; 
And  such  a  mind — 'twere  profitable  now 
To  see  what  may  be  done  with  it,  to  know 
What  should  be  valued  in  our  vaunted  birth, 
If  one  may  purify  such  vagrant  blood. 
Thus  did  I  cheat  them  all  with  sophistries  — 
The  idle  crowd,  that  yearns  the  live-long  day 

47 


For  some  new  toy  to  wonder  at.     And  then 

I  sought  that  thou  shouldst  please  the  king,  and  charm 

His  cares  away  with  music.     Fruitfully 

That  seed  has  prospered,  for  thou  art  to-day 

His  friend  and  comforter ;  his  secret  heart 

Admits  thee  as  a  daughter. 

Valeria. 

Do  you  think 
His  pride  is  dead  ? 

The  Prince. 

White  hairs  have  dulled  the  fire 
That  burned  so  hot  in  youth.     His  mind  begins 
To  doubt  the  old  priority  of  rank. 
And  he  will  yield  —  there  is  a  surer  reason. 
When  first  this  cloud  of  war  rose  threatening 
He  summoned  me,  and  to  my  sword  entrusted 
The  safety  of  the  state,  and  said  to  me  : 
Perchance  these  eyes  may  never  see  thee  more, 
My  son,  my  child.     Our  case  is  desperate  ; 
Fierce  ruin  hangs  about  thy  steps,  and  thou 
Mayst  scarce  avoid  her  clutches.     Shouldst  thou  fail, 
Then  all  is  gone  but  death  —  they  are  too  strong, 
These  enemies  of  mine.     And  then  we  talked 
Of  arms  and  stratagems,  debating  chances 
Through  hopeless  hours,  till  at  the  dawn  a  path 
Seemed  opening  dimly,  blind  and  overhung 
With  briers  and  barriers,  yet  that  led  perchance 
48 


To  light  and  victory  !     And  I  shouted  loud, 

Crying:  We'll  strike  them  yet  —  despair  not  yet! 

Hold  but  a  tight  rein  at  the  capital, 

And  by  St.  Michael's  sword,  I  '11  punish  them  ! 

And  as  he  rose,  all  flashing  o'er  with  joy, 

A  thought  sprang  to  my  heart,  and  from  my  lips : 

Give  me  one  promise,  sire,  and  I  will  win 

Though  all  the  stones  were  enemies!  —  Ask  then 

My  crown  itself!  he  said.     Nay,  sire,  not  that. 

If  I  bring  back  the  glory  of  our  house, 

The  safety  of  the  kingdom,  let  me  have 

The  woman  whom  I  love  to  be  my  wife. 

The  king  laughed  in  his  overflow  of  hope. 

Thou  lov'st  then,  Andrea?     By  my  soul,  I  thought 

Thy  heart  free  as  a  nun's!      Well,  thou  shouldst 

have  her 

Were  she  a  goddess  !     So,  Valeria, 
The  king  has  given  his  pledge,  and  thou  — 

Vakria. 

And  I? 
The  Prince. 

I  cast  my  love  and  power  before  thy  feet, 
My  fame,  the  crown  I  shall  inherit — all. 
Wilt  thou  not  take  them  ? 

Valeria. 
Yes. 

49 


Tbe  Prince. 

By  all  the  saints! 

Thou  shalt  be  happy  as  the  golden  dawn! 
And  I  will  win  thee  kingdoms,  till  thy  crown 
Shall  fit  thy  queenliness.     Great  deeds  become 
As  easy  of  achievement  as  a  dance, 
Now  thou  art  mine  forever. 

Valeria. 

I  thank  my  lord 
That  he  has  sued  for  what  his  power  might  take. 

The  Prince. 

I  would  not  wed  thee  without  wooing,  love  ; 
Nor  speak  thy  name  into  the  public  ear 
Without  a  word  to  thee.     It  was  to  say  it 
I  rode  these  leagues  to-night,  and  now  again 
Must  ride  them,  for  the  ruthless  hours  lead  on 
Close  to  the  morn.     To-morrow,  when  I  come 
With  banners  and  with  music,  be  thou  near 
All  white,  where  I  may  see  thee  first.     And  now 

Farewell ! 

Valeria. 

I  will  remember. 

The  Prince. 

O  my  love, 

I  leave  my  heart  upon  this  shrine  forever, 
And  all  my  life  shall  be  an  orison. 

[He  kisses  her  hand.     Exit  the  Prince.] 
So 


Valeria. 

Ah,  God  !  this  tumult  in  my  blood  and  brain 
Will  cool  up  there  where  he  has  called  me.     There, 
Enthroned  with  him  beyond  desire,  my  soul 
Shall  rest  at  last —  shall  be  at  peace,  at  peace ! 
Afar  from  him  —  that  other,  and  his  eyes, 
That  rob  me  of  my  soul !     What  words  he  said ! 
There 's  something  in  tby  soul  love  must  beware. 
God  keep  me  free  of  love  !     God  keep  me  free  ! 
Me  or  the  grave.     What  deadly  fear  is  this? 
Oh,  it  is  chill,  ;t  is  cold.     Valeria ! 
Alas  !  what  hast  thou  done,  Valeria ! 

[She  sinks  to  the  ground,  covering  her  face  with  her  hands.] 

[Curtain.] 


ACT    II 


SCENE. — A  spacious  hall  in  the  palace.     Several  ladies  of  the  court 
discovered,  including  Tora,  Piera,  and  Olivia. 


Pier  a. 

Faith,  I  am  glad  this  weary  war  is  over. 
The  court  has  been  as  full  of  merriment 
As  yonder  austere  convent  during  Lent. 
I'd  rather  be  a  nun,  and  fast  and  faint, 
Than  play  the  hypocrite  with  mirth. 

Tora. 

Alas! 

Piera  has  been  lonely.     When  the  prince 
Brings  back  our  troop  of  fighting  friends  to-day 
The  old  sweet  atmosphere  of  compliment 
Will  bring  the  roses  to  her  cheeks  again. 


Piera. 

If  not,  I'll  hie  me  to  the  convent  straight, 
Where  pallor  is  becoming. 
55 


Tor  a. 

If  the  king 

Had  let  us  live  under  the  cloud  of  war 
We  could  have  hugged  our  griefs  with  much  content. 
But  no  —  he  would  have  revels  ;  all  the  court 
Must  wear  the  laughing  mask  of  peace,  and  so 
What  wonder  if  we  sighed  behind  it? 

Pier  a. 

None! 

How  can  a  dozen  ladies  cheer  a  court 
With  but  a  man  or  two  to  gladden  them, 
And  those  in  love  ? 

Olivia. 

This  girl  Valeria 
Affects  the  bearing  of  a  queen. 

Tor  a. 

In  truth 
She  has  it.     Doubtless  she  amuses  you  — 

A  stranger  ! 

Pier  a. 

Is  she  not  a  queen  indeed, 
Now  that  our  noblest  knight  is  at  her  feet  ? 

Olivia. 

Queen  of  a  day  !     The  high-born  Florimond 
Will  not  long  drag  his  honor  in  the  dust 
Her  arrogance  would  blind  you  with. 
56 


Piera. 

For  me, 

She  doth  amuse  me.     I  profess  to  be 
A  seeker  after  truth,  and  she  reveals 
The  worthlessness  of  ancestry.     I  think 
Were  she  a  daughter  of  the  Antonines 
She  could  not  walk  more  proudly,  nor  indulge 
A  loftier  ambition. 

Tor  a. 

Did  you  note 

How  her  mask  vanished  from  the  motley  crowd 
That  vainly  broke  the  shadowy  garden's  hush 
Seeking  Count  Florimond  last  night  —  the  truant? 

[Enter  Florimond.] 

Florimond. 

What  lips,  too  sweet  for  aught  but  honeyed  words, 
Blend  with  their  dulcet  sounding  of  my  name 
A  cruel  epithet? 

Piera. 

My  lord,  what  tongue, 
Too  lightly  set  to  wag  for  truth  alone, 
Dares  to  deny  the  epithet  ? 

Florimond. 

A  truant 

Flees  from  the  weary  business  of  the  hour 
To  chase  bright-winged  pleasure.     1  can  be 

57 


No  truant,  for  my  hour  of  banishment 
From  the  despotic  kingdom  of  your  wit 
Was  spent  in  grave  discourse.  • 

Piera. 

And  yet  't  is  rumored 
The  wittiest  despot  in  our  crowd  of  masks 
Found  the  deserter  whom  we  sought  in  vain, 
All  in  despite  of  darkness,  and  beguiled 
His  grave  discourse. 

Florimond. 

Think  you  the  woman  lives 
Who  could  discover  what  you  fail  to  find? 

Piera. 

Your  heart,  my  lord  ?  The  task  is  difficult, 
The  guerdon  light,  and  yet  the  gossips  say 
One  has  succeeded. 

Florimond. 

\  must  doubt  your  wit 
If  you  believe  the  gossips. 

Tor  a. 

They  alone 

Have  not  convinced  us.     Listen,  all  of  you, 
And  judge  him.     When  this  day,  so  golden  now, 
Had  slept  away  an  hour  or  two  in  darkness, 
58 


And  flaring  revels  flickered  to  their  death, 
I  left  the  palace,  hot  with  eagerness 
To  find  a  precious  jewel  I  had  lost. 
I  and  my  woman,  in  whose  hand  a  torch 
Sputtered  its  petty  protest  to  the  night, 
Searched  all  the  grassy  coverts,  peering  deep 
Down  shadowy  tangles  I  had  clambered  through 
In  the  wild  search  for  the  deserter  there. 
When  lo  !  beside  the  thickest  copse  of  all 
A  heap  of  star-beams  lay  before  our  feet, 
Like  pale  flowers,  new-caparisoned  in  dew, 
And  when  we  bent  inquiringly  the  torch 
It  showed  Valeria.     Prone  upon  the  ground, 
Her  hands  clasped  high  above  the  lifeless  face 
That  kissed  the  soft  caressing  turf,  she  lay  — 
As  though  at  last  the  orphan  waif  had  found 
A  mother's  greeting,  and  the  loving  earth 
Had  claimed  her  child. 

Florimond. 

But  you  revived  her  ? 

Tor  a. 

Long 

The  soul  refused  to  greet  us  from  her  eyes, 
But  we  despaired  not,  and  at  last  it  came; 
And  she  arose  and  leaning  wearily 
Trailed  with  us  to  the  palace. 

59 


Florimond. 

Did  she  speak  ? 

Tora. 

Your  name  was  on  her  lips  and,  linked  with  it, 
Wild, unintelligible  mutterings. 

Pier  a. 
Now  will  you  still  deny  the  interview  ? 

Florimond. 

Nay,  if  you  would  infer  sweet  hours  of  talk 
Each  time  a  lovely  lady  speaks  my  name 
My  time  must  all  be  yours. 

Pier  a. 

I  think  it  will, 

For  you  are  placed  so  high  in  my  disdain 
My  tongue  can  never  tell  it  oft  enough. 

Florimond. 

Disdain  shall  have  my  thanks   for  keeping  me 
Fresh  in  your  mind.     I  humbly  beg  your  grace, 
Your  patient,  whom  the  perfume  of  sweet  thoughts 
Saddened  to  swooning  —  has  her  soul  revived? 
Why  comes  she  not  ? 

60 


Tora. 

She  could  not  sleep,  my  lord. 
This  morn  her  cheeks  are  hot,  and  in  her  eyes 
A  sunken  fire  is  glowing. 

Florimond. 

Will  she  come 
To  view  the  pageant  ? 

Tora. 

Though  the  burning  fingers 
Of  countless  fevers  clutch  her,  she  will  come. 
Such  was  her  answer  when  I  counseled  rest. 

Pier  a. 

You  counseled  rest — to  her!  O  lady  mine, 
Talk  to  the  torrent  —  waste  not  such  advice 
Upon  Valeria ! 

Florimond. 

Where  are  your  festal  robes, 
My  tardy  maids  ?     The  banners  of  the  prince 
Will  crown  the  hill  ere  you  are  half  bedecked 
To  grace  his  triumph. 

Tora. 

He  dismisses  us  — 
Come,  let  us  go. 

61 


Pier  a. 

And  show  this  splendid  count, 
Whose  toilet  has  been  building  since  the  dawn, 
How  swiftly  they  can  dress  who  have  no  need 
Of  art  and  artifice. 

Florimond. 

Nay — who  have  made  them  slaves, 
To  drive  the  car  of  beauty  over  us. 

[Exeunt  all  but  Florimond.] 

I  fear  my  soul  was  dead  or  mad  last  night. 

What  eyes  she  has  to  witch  away  the  world, 

Make  memory  a  void,  and  thought  a  wind 

Blown  from  eternity  to  bear  afar 

Earth's  frail  illusions !     Now  the  day  grows  strong 

And  drives  away  the  clinging  mists  of  night 

That  blinded  me.     I  will  arouse  my  soul, 

That,  lulled  by  perfumes,  sleeps  upon  its  task. 

I  will  delay  the  triumph  of  my  love  — 

Or  plan  it  otherwise.     I  will  prepare 

And  strike  this  blow.     Three  zealous  months  would 

do  it. 

Ah  !   't  is  the  curse  of  such  a  double  life, 
A  man  may  lose  himself  in  what  he  seems, 
And  be  the  thing  he  acts  !     I  have  grown  dull  — 
The  cardinal  was  right.     The  Vancua  blood 
Flows  pale  and  turgid  in  me.     Day  by  day 
I  linger  here,  nursing  a  fond  pretense 
62 


Of  gradual  achievement,  trying  to  forge 
Great  deeds  with  fires  unlit.     Have  I  no  strength 
Even  to  resolve  ?     Must  fate  supply  the  torch 
I  dare  not  light  ? 

Faugh  !  what  a  throjig  of  thoughts 
Comes  questioning  !     Away  with  them  ! 

[The  King's  Guards  approach  and  range  themselves.    Enter  the  King 
and  Liperata.     Florimond  kneels  and  kisses  the  King's  hand.] 

Alas! 

In  my  friend's  glory  I  shall  have  no  share  — 
Would  I  had  fought  with  him  ! 

The  King. 

Is  all  prepared  ? 

Florimond. 
As  ready  as  our  hearts,   sire. 

The  King. 

Will  't  go  well? 

Florimond. 

The  pageant  will  be  royal  as  the  deed. 
The  town  is  swarming  at  the  gates ;  the  hill 
Is  one  continuous  festival,  and  soon 
Its  summit  will  be  crowned  with  banners,  and 
The  waving  plumes  of  heroes. 
63 


The  King. 

Hasten,  then  ! 

I  envy  much  the  doer  of  great  deeds, 
And  yet  thy  part  is  dearer  to  my  soul, 
Who  shalt  be  first  to  crown  him  with  our  praise. 
I  pray  thee,  weave  not  all  the  garland  there 
On  the  hill's  summit.     Spare  a  leaf  or  two 
To  give  our  greeting  freshness. 

Florimond. 

Sire,  my  heart 

Is  longing  for  my  friend,  and  when  once  more 
My  hand  clasps  his  I  shall  forget  to  hail 
The  prince  and  victor. 

The  King. 

Leave  that  to  the  cheers 
Of  the  rejoicing  people.     Now  go  forth  — 
The  glad  throng  waits. 

Florimond. 

Ah,  sire,  permit  me  now, 

On  this  great  day  that  makes  your  power  immortal, 
Once  to  salute  my  king,  whose  generous  soul 
Would  give  his  heir  the  glory. 

The  King. 

He  will  make 

A  king  worth  dynasties  of  such  as  I, 
And  you  will  live  to  know  it. 
64 


Florimond. 

I  shall  lose 
The  richest  treasure  of  my  memory  first. 

[He  kisses  the  King's  hand.     Exit  Florimond.] 

The  King, 

Such  friends  are  better  than  dead  enemies, 
Whose  blood  enriches  harvests  of  revenge. 
Do  you  not  think  so  ? 

Liperata. 

Do  not  ask  me,  sire. 
I  am  haunted  by  a  shadowy  distrust 
Of  his  assiduous  loyalty. 

The  King. 

Your  reason? 

Liperata. 

I  cannot  tell  —  I  have  none.     Yet  of  old 
The  chieftains  of  the  house  of  Vancua 
Could  not  so  easily  forget. 

The  King. 

Of  old 

The  Vancuas  were  valiant  enemies, 
Fierce  in  their  hatred,  swift  in  their  revenge. 
For  centuries  their  stainless  honor  shone 
Pure  as  an  altar  flame  not  once  obscured 
65 


By  the  foul  vapor  of  hypocrisy. 

And  when  at  last  their  greatness  sank  in  blood 

And  night  and  ruin  fell  about  their  house, 

I  saved  this  youth  from  the  impending  death 

That  such  a  heritage  of  honesty 

Might  fortify  me  in  the  people's  love. 

Had  Florimond  defied  me,  had  he  spurned 

My  clemency,  I  should  have  recognized 

The  wild  ancestral  wilfulness ;  but  since 

He  could  forgive  the  iron  hand  that  struck 

Great  blows  in  a  great  cause,  that  crushed  their  factions 

To  make  a  nation  strong,  and  bring  again 

Union  and  power  to  threatened  Italy  — 

I  must  believe  him  true,  for  in  his  blood 

There  is  no  taint  of  falsehood. 

Liperata. 

Yet  they  say 

His  mother  was  a  Florentine.     New  times 
Beget  new  crimes.     To-day  in  Italy 
Traitors  are  thick  as  fig-trees. 

The  King. 

Have  no  fear. 

Were  he  a  traitor  he  had  struck  before  — 
Now  't  is  too  late.     We  are  too  strong  to-day 
To  fear  a  world  of  foes. 

66 


Liperata. 

Your  majesty 

Has  verily  the  seat  of  Jove  to-day. 
Long  may  you  hold  the  thunder  in  your  hands 
And  late  bequeath  it  to  your  dauntless  son  ! 

The  King. 

It  is  of  him  I  dream  by  day  and  night. 
He  will  bring  back  what  Italy  has  lost. 
His  mother's  soul  shines  forth  in  him  again, 
Loving  and  conquering.     Do  you  believe 
That  she  is  glad  with  us? 

Liperata. 

Can  death  kill  love? 
Where  is  your  faith? 

The  King. 
It  faints  with  longing. 

Liperata. 

Nay, 

You  should  not  falter.     You  have  walked  with  angels 

Pure  Love  and  sacred  Sorrow.     You  are  blest. 

[Enter,  sumptuously  attired,  Tora,  Piera,  and  ladies  of  the  court] 

The  King. 

Hail  to  our  rainbow-herald!     Come,  what  news? 
67 


Tor  a. 

The  prince  is  almost  at  the  palace  gates, 
So  pressed  by  loving  throngs  he  scarce  can  move. 

The  King. 
They  know  not  our  impatience. 

[The  King  sits  upon  his  throne.      Tora  advances  to  Liperata.  ] 

Tor  a. 

O  my  mother, 

How  blessed  is  this  day  !     The  sun  climbs  high, 
And  o'er  the  arid  autumn  of  the  fields 
Our  hero-prince  comes  glowing  from  the  war  ! 
At  last  the  hour  has  come. 

[Enter  Cardinal  Ortus  and  train.] 

The  King. 

Most  noble  guests, 

This  morn  to  you  be  gracious  as  to  me  ! 
My  bravest  steeds  are  yours,  lord  cardinal, 
For  the  long  march  this  morning. 

Cardinal. 

Sire,  my  age 

Sits  not  so  lightly  on  a  horse's  back 
As  did  my  youth.     If,  then,  your  majesty 
Will  grant  me  but  one  window  in  the  tower, 


A  friend  or  two  from  these  my  followers, 
Their  eyes  will  show  me  all,  and  from  afar 
The  noise  will  fade  to  music. 

The  King. 

Be  it  so  — 

If  you  desire  such  kindless  entertainment 
Through  all  our  joy. 

[Enter  Valeria,  in  white,  bearing  a  lute.] 

.Behold  Valeria ! 

They  told  me  she  was  ill,  but  here  I  see 
A  face  all  roses,  starred  with  eyes  all  fire. 

Valeria. 

My  brain  was  hot  until  the  morning,  sire ; 
But  such  frail  humors  wait  upon  the  will, 
And  mine  has  banished  them. 

The  King. 

'T  was  bravely  done. 

Cardinal. 

The  bird  of  song  hath  dipped  her  gaudy  plumes 
In  the  white  sea-foam. 

The  King. 

May  the  nereids 

Have  had  no  power  to  filch  away  her  voice ! 
69 


yaleria. 

Alas !  your  majesty  has  never  heard 
A  sea-maid's  song  across  the  waning  tide, 
Else  would  you  know  she  need  not  envy  me 
My  mortal  music. 

Cardinal. 
You  have  heard  it  then  ? 

Valeria. 

Oft  when  my  soul  was  young,  and  dwelling  close 
With  things  invisible  ;  and  when  the  sea, 
Father  of  music,  rolled  his  endless  tune 
About  mine  ears. 

The  King. 

Now  let  us  hear  her  song 
As  you  remember  it. 

Valeria. 

I  saw  her  rise 

Star-crowned  from  out  the  sea,  and  snowy  waves 
Gemmed  her  bright  hair  with  foam.    Then  like  a  bell 
Rung  in  deep  waters  came  her  voice  to  me. 

[She  sings.] 

The  great  birds  beat  the  friendless  air 
And  spread  their  white  wings  wide. 
The  sinewy  sea  upholdeth  me  ; 

Couched  softly  on  the  tide, 
The  foamy  winds  my  coursers  are, 
And  dauntlessly  I  ride. 
70 


All  day  the  circling  sun  doth  sweep 

His  wealth  along  the  sea ; 
The  stars  all  night  pursue  his  flight 

From  bondage  never  free. 
Yet  night  and  day,  awake,  asleep, 

The  ocean  guardeth  me. 

When  afar,  by  the  turbulent  winds  upblown, 

Big  seas  pile  black  on  high, 
And  the  waters  race  to  their  fierce  embrace 

Under  a  sightless  sky  — 
In  the  depths  whither  exiled  peace  has  flown 

I  wait  for  the  storm  to  die. 

Oh,  come  hither!  come  over  the  ocean  to  me, 

Ye  weary  slaves  ashore  ! 
On  his  throbbing  breast  ye  shall  softly  rest, 

Or,  prone  on  the  wreathed  floor, 
Rapt  in  dreams  of  peace,  from  the  mad  world  free, 

Ye  shall  toil  and  weep  no  more  ! 

Piera. 

If  such  a  song  came  o'er  the  waves  to  me 
I  would  obey  and  drown  me. 

Valeria. 

Many  a  wretch, 
Lured  by  that  voice,  lies  stark  beneath  the  waves. 

The  King. 
Pray  heaven  we  hear  it  not ! 

71 


Valeria. 

Men  wholly  wise 
Or  wholly  happy  never  hear  it,  sire. 

The  King. 
Hush  !  do  you  hear  that  sound  ? 

Voices.  [Without.] 

They  come!  they  come! 

[Clattering  sounds  are  heard  far  down  the  distant  corridor.     As  they 
grow  louder  the  voices  of  women  commence  this  song :  ] 

O  maids,  weave  garlands  for  the  dance  — 

The  war  is  done  ! 
Pluck  laurel  for  the  conquering  lance  — 

The  fight  is  won  ! 

Come  singing  through  the  city's  gate  ; 
Beyond,  the  conquering  flag  of  state 

Gleams  in  the  sun. 

Your  lords  and  lovers  come  again 

.    You  sent  with  tears. 
Come  dance  and  sing,  for  all  in  vain 

Were  sighs  and  fears. 
Come  dance,  for  down  the  hill  they  come 
To  sound  of  fife  and  tap  of  drum  — 
Rouse  heaven  with  cheers  ! 

Weave  laurel  for  the  victors  there, 

And  sing  their  praise ; 
And,  maids,  if  some  come  not  to  wear 

Your  crown  of  bays, 
72 


Faint  not,  but  dance  !     Unfurl  on  high 
The  flag  for  which  they  dared  to  die, 
And  paeans  raise ! 

[While  singing,  the  troop  of  maidens  slowly  enters,  rhythmically 
dancing  as  they  sing,  and  scattering  flowers.  Then  come  the 
King's  councilors  and  ecclesiastical  dignitaries  in  robes  of 
office.  The  Prince's  body-guard  enters  next,  whereupon  the 
King  rises  from  his  throne.  During  the  singing  all  those  of  the 
court  have  been  visibly  moved,  some  much  excited,  a  few 
women  weeping.  Valeria  especially  is  absorbed  as  in  a 
dream,  and  unconsciously  her  body  sways  with  the  dance  and 
her  lips  move  with  the  song.  After  the  body-guard  come  the 
youthful  cavalcade  who  had  gone  with  Florimond  to  meet  the 
Prince;  and  lastly  Florimond  leads  in  Prince  Andrea  himself, 
followed  by  his  chief  officers,  among  them  being  Count  Leone. 
As  Valeria  sees  Florimond  she  shrinks  back  with  a  shudder, 
and  covers  her  face  with  her  hands.  But  the  next  instant  she 
draws  herself  proudly  up  and  meets  his  eye  in  a  long  gaze, 
while  the  King  descends  the  steps  from  the  throne,  and  the 
Prince  hastens  to  kneel  at  his  feet.] 

The  King. 

Rise — to  my  heart,  and  may  the  frown  of  fate 
Part  us  no  more !     If  I  were  rich  in  speech 
My  praise  should  set  thy  name  among  the  stars, 
My  son ! 

The  Prince. 
At  last  I  feel  thy  blood  in  me. 

The  King. 
My  conqueror ! 

The  Prince. 
Thine  enemies',  my  lord. 

73 


Tbe  King. 
Where  are  they? 

The  Prince. 

Sire,  thou  hast  none.  Read  the  proof 
Here,  in  this  treaty. 

[The  King  takes  the  parchment,  and  the  two  read  and  converse  to 
gether  in  an  undertone.  In  the  mean  time  Andrea's  officers  seek 
out  their  wives  and  friends  in  the  throng.  ] 

Liperata. 

Joy  is  queen  again ! 

Conquerors,  were  your  pathway  paved  with  gems 
'T  were  yet  unworthy.     All  our  hearts'  delight 
No  pageantry  can  tell. 

Tor  a. 

We  thank  you  all, 

And  for  your  scars  we  weep.     Signer,  'twas  you 
Who  led  them  by  the  woody  mountain-pass 
To  strike  the  enemy's  heart.     We  heard  the  tale. 
Ah,  Count  Leone,  have  you  sheathed  your  sword 
To  whet  your  tongue  again  ? 

Leone. 

My  lady,  no; 

I  crown  you  victor  in  the  war  of  words 
And  dare  contend  no  more. 

74 


Tor  a. 

Brave  deeds  alone 

Beget  such  modesty.     My  noble  lord, 
Your  race  is  rich  in  glory — and  your  brother, 
Where  is  he  ? 

Agnolo. 
Dead,  my  lady. 

Tor  a. 

Nay,  his  name 

Will  live  when  we  are  dead.     'Tis  well  with  him. 
Alas!  I  know  a  maid  will  weep  for  this  — 
Bear  her  the  tidings  gently. 

Valeria. 

[To  three  or  four  gentlemen  who  have  sought  her  out.] 

Now  may  the  world  be  merry  once  again. 
Such  funeral  revels  we  have  held,  my  lords — 
With  terror  at  the  gates,  and  fierce  despair 
Luring  the  enemy  hither. 

A  Gentleman. 

Had  they  come, 

You  need  but  sing  to  charm  their  hate  away 
And  make  them  slaves. 

Valeria. 

I  '11  sing  no  more,  my  lords 
Then  will  you  let  me  brood  in  solitude, 
Until,  aweary  of  the  faithless  world, 

75 


I  drag  my  lone  soul  to  a  nunnery 
And  tune  my  harp  for  heaven. 

Florimond. 

Sing  no  more — 

Your  speech  alone  is  tuneful.     Speak  no  more 

There  's  music  in  your  eyes.     Be  blind  and  dumb, 
And  still  the  spirit  of  melodious  sounds 
Will  be  your  herald. 

Valeria. 

And  when  I  shall  die 

Music  will  perish  with  me.     Ah,  my  lords, 
Forgive  this  courtier !     In  the  fire  of  war 
You  must  have  purged  your  souls  of  flattery — 
Teach  him  how  easy  't  is  to  speak  the  truth. 
What  are  you  seeking,  Count  Leone?     Grant  me 
But  half  a  word. 

Leone. 

I  knew  a  lady  once — 
Tell  me,  I  pray  you,  has  she  died  of  grief? 

Valeria. 

'T  is  but  a  leaden  conscience  drags  her  from  you. 
Question  her  well,  my  lord,  and  trust  her  little  — 
If  this  is  she. 

[Moving  aside,  she  reveals  Piera,  who  has  been  hiding  from  Leone, 
and  now  conies  forward  smiling.] 

76 


Leone. 

Say  thou  hast  kept  the  faith, 
Most  noble  lady. 

Piera. 

Do  not  praise  me  for  it. 
If  I  remember  you  't  is  but  because 
No  rivals  sued,  my  lord. 

Leone. 

I  know  full  well 

You  were  half  dead  with  grieving,  and  your  face 
Betrays  the  fasts  and  vigils,  and  the  tears 
You  spent  for  me. 

Piera. 

If  I  am  thin,  the  cause 
Is  revelry,  for  I  assure  your  worship 
We  have  been  merry  far  into  the  night. 
We  know  how  jauntily  the  world  would  spin 
Were  naught  but  women  in  it. 

Leone. 

And  we  men 

Dreamed  you  were  pining  for  us,  and  forbore. 
To  woo  the  golden  damsels  of  the  north 
In  pity  for  you. 

Piera. 

Constancy  is  made 
Of  false  compassion,  then. 

77 


Leone. 

Nobler  than  yours, 
Which  dares  not  face  a  tempter. 

Pier  a. 

You  forget  — 
I  never  promised  constancy. 

Leone. 

I  know 

You  wept  upon  me  with  a  storm  of  sighs 
The  day  we  parted. 

Pier  a. 

Strange  I  should  have  feared, 
Who  know  you  are  so  dear  in  your  own  love 
That  the  most  tempting  danger  ne'er  could  lure 
Your  feet  from  safety  ! 

Leone. 

If  my  sword  was  cold 
'T  was  for  your  sake  who  could  not  live  without  me. 

Pier  a. 

The  brave  new  chivalry!  Of  old  a  knight 
Offered  great  deeds  like  jewels  to  his  love, 
Or  fell  to  prove  him  worthy  of  her  tears. 

Leone. 

What  if  a  knight,  whose  arm  would  strive  in  vain 
To  add  a  splendor  to  his  lady's  name, 
78 


Yet  felt  the  sweet  infusion  of  her  soul 
Urging  him  on  to  glory,  and  essayed 
To  be  not  all  ignoble,  would  she  hold 
His  striving  worthy  the  divine  reward? 

Pier  a. 

I  am  not  worthy  such  a  knight,  my  lord. 
Go  ask  some  nobler  lady. 

Leone. 

I  should  seek  her 
Through  all  the  world  in  vain. 

The   King.     [To  the  Prince.] 

We  are  safe  again  ! 

Once  more  we  clutch  care  by  the  throat,  and  smooth 
The  frowning  brow  of  fate.     My  Andrea, 
Thy  father  is  thy  debtor  for  his  crown  ; 
To  the  last  word  thou  hast  fulfilled  thy  promise. 

The  Prince. 
And  thine,  my  father? 

The  King. 

I  do  not  forget. 
Hast  thou  considered  well  ? 

The  Prince. 

That  hope  has  been 
The  torch  that  led  me  on. 

79 


The  King. 

And  she  is  here  — 
The  lady  whom  thou  lov'st  ? 

The  Prince. 

Ah !  suffer  me 
With  her  to  kneel  before  thee ! 

The  King. 

No  —  not  yet. 

The  world  must  be  our  witness  to  the  bond — 
So  shall  we  not  escape,  though  all  go  ill. 

[The  King  ascends  and  stands  in  front  of  the  throne,  followed  by  the 
Prince,  who  takes  his  position  just  below  him.] 

My  countrymen  !  —  you  whose  intrepid  souls 
Have  borne  our  honor  up  the  steeps  of  war, 
And  you  who  from  afar  with  hearts  aflame 
Have  watched  their  fierce  ascent  and  cheered  them  on, 
Loosing  the  leash  of  treasure  ;   you  as  well, 
Mothers  and  wives  of  heroes,  maidens  pure, 
Whose  high  hearts  wept  the  night  away  in  prayers 
Till  the  glad  dawn  revealed  a  smiling  heaven  — 
Well  have  you  served  the  state  !     The  insolent  foe 
Crawls  at  your  feet,  and  on  the  heights  of  fame, 
Caressed  by  skyey  breezes,  far  above 
The  reach  of  envious  clouds,  impregnable, 
Your  flag  floats,  streaming  forth  its  hues  of  dawn, 
Lit  by  the  sun  of  glory.     For  your  toil, 
80 


Triumphant  now,  we  thank  you.     For  your  wounds, 
Your  losses,  and  your  woes  a  weeping  land 
Uplifts  her  arms  in  blessing,  and  her  praise, 
Smiling  through  tears,  crowns  each  devoted  head 
With  immortality.     May  tender  Peace 
Dwell  on  your  hearths  forever !     Joyous  days 
Be  your  reward,  and  softly  sunny  age, 
Mellowed  by  mighty  memories  ! 

To  one, 

Your  leader  in  the  brotherhood  of  arms, 
First  in  our  pride  and  dearest  in  our  love, 
We  grant  a  special  boon.     Prince  Andrea 
Claims  as  the  promised  prize  of  victory 
The  lady  of  his  love  to  be  his  wife. 
To  him,  who  from  the  daughters  of  great  kings 
May  choose  his  spouse,  we  grant  the  privilege 
Of  marriage  with  the  lowliest,  if  such 
Be  his  desire.     Yet  we  beseech  his  youth 
That  no  hot-blooded  passion  may  obscure 
His  duty  to  the  state,  which  asks  of  him 
A  queen  of  race  heroic,  fit  to  be 
The  mother  of  great  sons. 

The  Prince. 

Sire,  I  am  come 

From  battle,  and  the  iron  robes  of  war 
Still  cling  about  me.     At  my  side  still  hangs 
The  sword  I  wielded  for  my  country's  right. 
•i 


Think  you  unholy  fires  could  e'er  survive 

The  red  rain  of  that  quenching?     In  my  love 

1  am  still  a  patriot,  and  the  maid  I  choose, 

Were  she  descended  from  a  race  of  kings, 

And  dowered  with  states  for  jewels,  could  not  bring 

A  soul  more  royal  nor  a  richer  store 

Of  queenly  treasures.     With  most  humble  hope 

1  beg  the  purest  thing  of  all  the  earth 

To  stoop  to  such  a  battered  warrior 

And  teach  him  how  to  reign. 

[He  kneels  to  Valeria.] 

Valeria. 

Ah,  not  to  me  ! 
You  shame  me  to  the  soul. 

The  King. 

Alas  !   my  son  — 
Come  back  to  me,  my  son! 

The  Prince. 

Will  you  be  false  ? 
I  lean  upon  your  promise  and  your  love. 

The  King. 
And  in  the  name  of  love  I  bid  you  pause. 

The  Prince. 

When  the  long  race  is  close  upon  the  goal 
You  bid  the  winner  pause !     Recall  such  folly  ! 

82 


The  King. 

The  goal  you  seek  is  but  a  veering  vane, 
The  prize  as  volatile  as  air  is. 

Valeria. 

Sire, 
Even  you  shall  not  insult  me. 

The  Prince. 

Do  not  speak ; 
Trust  to  my  love  for  all. 

Valeria. 

Most  noble  prince, 

This  blessing  of  your  love  would  make  me  rich; 
But  if  the  king  doth  scorn  my  empty  hands 
And  meager  lineage,  I  repay  his  scorn. 
Great  is  he  in  the  empire  of  the  sword  — 
In  the  pure  realm  of  art  my  ancestors 
Were  kings  when  his  were  bandits.     On  my  soul 
I  will  not  wed  on  sufferance.     Give  me  back 
The  wild  free  life  you  stole  me  from,  my  lord. 
Then  was  I  empress  of  the  world.     My  mind 
Was  sister  to  great  poets,  and  my  soul 
Sang  like  the  harp  of  God,  and  was  at  peace. 

The  King. 

It  is  the  truth — she  is  a  thing  afar. 
Our  kingdom  is  not  hers,  nor  is  she  fit 
To  bear  the  bonds  of  earthly  sovereignty. 
83 


My  son,  the  colors  of  the  dawn  are  fair ; 
But  weave  a  mantle  of  the  morning  cloud 
And  it  will  chill  thee.     Let  my  love  once  more 
Bid  thee  beware. 

Valeria. 

I,  too,  entreat  my  lord 
Not  to  enforce  this  whim.     Ah,  let  me  go  ! 

The  Prince. 
Dost  thou  forget? — Sire,  have  I  ever  changed? 

The  King. 
Then  must  this  be  ? 

The  Prince. 

Ay,  by  my  mother's  soul. 

The  King. 

Then  ring  the  bells  —  bid  the  great  host  advance, 
And  set  beside  the  conqueror's  coal-black  steed 
A  snow-white  palfrey  for  his  fair  betrothed. 
And  let  the  heralds  to  the  world  proclaim 
The  hero  and  the  maid  who  one  week  hence 
Shall  be  his  bride. 

Tor  a. 
Mother,  must  we  ride  too? 

Liperata. 

With  heavy  hearts,  my  child. 
84 


Tor  a. 

I  know  a  journey 
More  easy  for  the  soul.     God!  let  me  take  it! 

The   King.   [To  Valeria.] 
Come  hither,  child. 

[Valeria,  led  by  the  Prince,  approaches  and  kneels  before  him. 

Be  true,  as  she  was  true! 

Be  steadfast.     Seek  for  peace  within  thy  soul  — 
It  will  not  meet  thee  in  the  arms  of  power. 
Trust  not  the  sylvan  spirit  of  unrest 
That  calls  thee  from  the  past.     Thy  golden  hour 
Is  fled.     No  more  canst  thou  be  Nature's  guest, 
For  Life  has  beckoned  to  thee,  and  has  poured 
Her  riches  in  thy  lap,  and  whispered  thee 
Her  luring  mysteries.     Remember  not, 
Seek  not,  but  walk  straight  on  in  thankfulness, 
Trusting  thy  joy  to  God.     So  shalt  thou  be 
Queen  of  thy  soul,  that  long  has  idly  roved 
The  slave  of  every  wind.     So  shall  thy  reign 
Make  brave  men  strong. 

Valeria. 

O  sire,  I  have  been  rash, 
But  not  ungrateful.     In  this  embassy 
From  my  domain  to  yours  my  heart  shall  bear 
The  treasures  of  art's  kingdom  for  a  dower, 
But  my  allegiance  is  to  yours  forever. 
8s 


Tbe  Prince, 
Heaven  make  me  worthy  of  thee ! 

Valeria. 

Mock  me  not ! 
I  know  not  why  thou  lov'st  me. 

Tbe  Prince. 

Happy  years 
Shall  prove  my  constancy. 

[At  the  King's  command  above —  "  Bid  the  great  host  advance" 
— the  crowd  begins  to  file  out,  led  by  the  soldiers  and  dancing 
f  maidens,  who  softly  take  up  their  old  refrain.  Then  the  officers 
and  people-of  the  court  leave  more  informally  to  mount  and 
form  outside,  followed  by  Liperata  and  Tora,  and  then  by  the 
Prince  and  Valeria.  During  the  gradual  exit  the  following 
scene  occurs  at  the  front  of  the  stage.  ] 

Florimond.      [Turning  to  follow  —  aside.  ] 

Ambitious  puppet ! 
She  '11  wish  her  soul  in  hell  ere  all  is  done. 

Tbe  King. 

Cardinal,  I  am  loath  to  leave  you.     Count, 
Attend  our  noble  guest,  and  from  the  tower 
Show  him  the  spectacle. 

Florimond. 

One  word,  my  king. 

The  prince  has  stolen  the  jewel  of  my  heart  — 
86 


I  cannot  see  him  wear  it.     Let  me  go! 

Let  me  not  sour  his  joy  with  jealous  thoughts. 

The  world  is  wide  to  roam  in,  and  afar 

My  soul  shall  find  content.     Deny  me  not 

A  little  time  to  purge  away  this  grief 

That  stains  my  friendship  with  disloyalty. 

The  King. 

Is  love  so  grave  a  thing  to  you  as  well? 
Yes — you  shall  have  the  passports.     See  the  world, 
And  bring  us  news  of  it. 

Florimond. 

When  I  return 

A  heart  reborn  to  freedom  and  true  faith 
Shall  thank  you  fitly. 

[Exit  the  King  and  train;   and,  at  a  sign  from  Florimond,  the 
followers  of  the  Cardinal.] 

I  am  yours.     This  hour 
My  soul  is  turned  to  steel. 

Cardinal. 

A  Vancua ! 

Florimond. 

I  shall  not  stand  again  upon  this  ground 
Till  I  can  throttle  them.     We  will  go  hence  — 
To-morrow  be  it !     He  has  granted  me 
87 


Arms  for  his  ruin.     From  the  distant  hills 
Freedom  shall  call  her  forces.     When  these  tyrants 
Walk  most  securely  under  azure  skies 
A  storm  shall  burst  upon  them,  and  my  hand 
Shall  hurl  the  thunderbolt  against  their  throne. 

Cardinal. 

I  hear  thy  father's  voice  in  thine  again. 
Swift  be  the  blessed  march  of  liberty ! 

[Curtain.] 


ACT    III 

[SCENE.— The  antechamber  of  the  Princess  Valeria.  Enter  the 
Captain  of  the  King's  Guards  with  Florimond,  who  is  soiled  and 
stained  with  travel.  Three  months  elapse  between  Acts  II. 
and  III.] 

Captain. 
You  are  too  bold,  my  lord. 

Florimond. 

What  should  I  fear  ? 
This  is  a  house  of  bats.     The  rising  sun 
But  strikes  them  blind. 


Captain. 

The  sun  has  not  yet  risen, 

And  they  are  on  the  watch.     Why  did  you  come 
When  any  messenger  would  do  as  well  ? 

Florimond. 

To  be  of  use,  Rinaldo.     Do  not  fret. 
I  have  seen  the  king  and  sugared  him  with  words 
Till  his  soul  soaks  in  sweet  content.     Besides, 

91 


He  is  a  phantom ;  who  would  touch  me  now 
At  his  command? 

Captain. 

Not  I,  my  lord.     And  yet 
Are  we  prepared  for  disobedience? 

Florimond. 

To  the  last  banner.     Not  a  man  but  knows 
His  part  in  the  play,  and  strains  his  eager  ear 
To  catch  the  first  glad  call  of  liberty. 

Captain. 
And  when  will  she  awake? 

Florimond. 

To-morrow  night. 
1  come  to  give  the  signal. 

Captain. 

God  be  thanked ! 

'T  is  worth  a  score  of  years  of  servitude 
To  feel  the  breath  of  freedom  once  again. 

Florimond. 

To-morrow  is  our  blessed  patron's  feast, 
And  Count  Leone's  wedding-day  as  well. 
92 


The  city  will  be  thronged,  and  with  the  crowd, 

Like  a  fleet  shadow  at  the  heels  of  joy, 

Our  people  will  assemble;  and  at  night, 

When  revels  have  grown  drunk,  one  word  from  me 

Will  end  this  farce  with  fire. 

Captain. 

But  are  you  sure 

The  citizens  are  ours?  Prince  Andrea 
Has  won  them  by  the  very  candor  of 
His  tyrannous  force. 

Florimond. 

I  will  dispose  of  him  — 
He  will  not  vex  us  when  the  moment  comes. 
And  for  the  citizens,  my  name  alone 
Has  been  their  talisman  for  centuries. 
What  is  this  prince  that  he  should  charm  away 
A  nation's  soul?     A  Vancua  need  but  whistle 
To  wake  the  mighty  goddess  slumbering  here, 
Her  head  upon  our  hills.     When  she  doth  rise 
The  past  will  shine  again  deep  in  her  eyes  — 
And  woe  to  those  who  see  the  lightnings  there ! 

Captain. 

I  vowed  to  give  my  slave-born  children  back 
The  heritage  we  lost.     My  hand  is  yours — 
For  life  or  death. 

93 


Florimond.       [Hearing  footsteps  without. ] 

The  count  was  long  my  friend, 
His  bride  too  long  my  enemy — and  yet 
I  think  she  loved  me  well,  save  with  her  tongue. 

[Enter  Tora  and  Piera.] 

Pier  a. 

The  Count  of  Vancua  !     Is  he  still  alive, 
And  talking  still? 

Florimond. 

Close  to  his  end,  my  lady. 
He  lingers  but  a  day  —  his  tongue  will  rot 
When  you  are  married. 

Tora. 

Welcome,  truant  friend. 
How  we  have  longed  for  you  ! 

Florimond. 

To-morrow's  bride 
Desired  my  pardon  for  past  cruelty? 

Piera. 
Ah,  no !     Your  thanks  for  many  a  priceless  truth. 

Florimond. 

You  have  them  — you  shall  have  your  will  to-day, 
To  the  last  sting.     But  I  beseech  your  grace 

94 


For  this  unworthy  livery.     The  slave 

Of  two  such  lovely  ladies  lives  in  heaven  — 

No  stains  of  earth  should  soil  him.     Let  me  go; 

I  am  not  fit  to  kiss  a  lady's  hand, 

White  as  the  rapture  we  invoke  for  her. 

Pier  a. 

Ah,  count,  if  all  the  hapless  world  to-night 
Might  be  as  glad  as  1 !     I  shall  rejoice 
Through  all  my  joy  to  see  you  here  to-morrow. 
Good-night ! 

Tor  a. 
You  are  the  capstone  of  our  hopes. 

Florimond. 
More  eager  in  your  service  than  the  king's. 

[Exit  Florimond.  ] 

Tor  a. 

'T  is  our  last  night,  Piera;  't  is  the  end. 
To-night  we  stand  together  on  the  shore ; 
To-morrow  comes  the  shining  barge  of  gold, 
Its  captain  at  the  rudder  —  all  his  soul 
Deep  burning  in  his  eyes,  imploring  thine. 
His  strong  arms  open,  and  he  waves  afar 
Over  the  purple  ocean  shot  with  gold, 
Waves  to  the  blessed  islands  of  delight, 
Deep  buried  in  the  distant  blue.     And  thou  — 

95 


Wrapt  in  a  robe  of  dreams,  serene,  secure, 
Thy  soul  glides  on,  and  I  am  left  alone. 

Pier  a. 

Thou  art  the  dreamer,  Tora.     Long  ago 
We  vowed  our  sisterhood,  and  registered 
Our  deathless  scorn  of  men  —  dost  thou  remember? 
And  longed  to  prove  our  constancy  against 
The  wooing  of  a  host  of  suppliants.     Ah  ! 
I  am  forsworn  —  I  did  not  know  them  then, 
These  suitors.     One  has  turned  the  heavy  key 
That  locked  the  secret  chambers  of  my  heart, 
And  lo!  the  day  pours  in,  and  I  awake, 
Who  never  lived  before.     All  is  more  rich 
Touched  by  this  golden  sun  of  love.     The  past 
Transfigured  is,  not  plundered.     Thou  art  still 
The  twin  star  of  my  soul. 

Tora. 

Until  the  dawn  — 
What  star  can  shine  undimmed  before  the  sun? 

Pier  a. 

Leave  me  not  on  the  wings  of  metaphor! 
The  stars  are  older  than  the  fiery  sun 
And  each  to  other  never  dim.     My  friend, 
Talk  not  of  change.     So  knitted  are  our  souls 
We  cannot  disentangle  all  the  past. 
96 


Tor  a. 

Leave  it  to  memory,  in  whose  shadowy  realm 
Grant  to  our  love  a  consecrated  shrine, 
And  strew  it  with  fresh  thoughts  when  we  are  parted. 

Piera. 

My  sister,  look  at  me !     What  blight  is  this, 
Blasting  our  fellowship?     Is  marriage  then 
An  exile?     Will  the  count  imprison  me, 
Deny  me  friends,  feed  me  with  poisonous  doubts? 
Thou  dost  not  think  so !     Tell  me  then  at  once 
Why  thou  canst  speak  of  parting. 

Tor  a. 

I  must  go  — 
God  wills  it —  I  obey. 

Piera. 

In  God's  name,  where  ? 

[Tora  points  to  the  distant  convent,  whose  bells  are  even  then  almost 
inaudibly  ringing.] 

Tora. 
Unto  a  royal  marriage. 

Piera. 
Is  't  resolved  ? 

Tora. 
Three  months  have  idled  on  since  I  resolved. 

97 


Pier  a. 
And  nothing  said? 

Tor  a. 

I  waited  but  for  thee  — 

Thy  wedding.     When  Leone  claims  his  bride 
The  portals  of  the  cloister  will  receive  me. 

Pier  a. 

Hast  thou  no  mercy  on  thy  youth  ?     Dost  know 
The  penances,  the  vigils,  and  the  fasts, 
The  bare  cold  days,  the  long  entombed  nights, 
The  endless  years  stretching  in  vista'd  gloom 
Down  to  the  grave  ?    Oh,  hast  thou  thought  of  all  i 

Tora. 

All  these  are  nothing.     From  the  fires  of  life 
My  soul  has  risen  to  heaven.     I  am  at  peace. 

Pier  a. 

Ah,  life  is  glorious— action,  love,  the  world 
To  rove  in,  laden  with  beauty  and  delight. 

Tora. 

Sweet  be  its  songs  to  thee,  its  loveliest  flowers 
Fall  in  thy  lap !     For  thee  and  thy  content 
One  will  be  praying  always. 

Pier  a. 

Say  no  more. 

Thy  soul  is  far  away  —  I  cannot  hear. 
98 


But  in  my  cup  of  joy  salt  tears  are  falling, 
And  all  my  bridal  robes  are  wound  with  black. 
Tora ! 

Tora. 
My  sister ! 

[They  embrace.] 

Pier  a. 

Is  it  farewell  indeed? 

Tora. 
Not  to  our  love. 

[Enter  the  Princess  Valeria.] 

Valeria. 

What!  weeping,  girls — my  girls? 
Ah,  you  are  wise,  Piera ;  't  is  with  tears 
A  maid  should  think  of  marriage. 

Piera. 

Then  am  I 

Most  false  to  maidenhood,  for  these  my  tears 
Fall  on  another  altar. 

Valeria. 

Are  you  happy  ? 

Piera. 

In  all  my  thoughts  of  the  sweet  time  to  come 
As  glad  as  any  queen— so  please  your  highness. 

99 


Valeria. 

She  does  not  know.    [Aside.]    If  I  could  bless  you  now 
I  would  importune  death  to  bear  you  hence. 

Pier  a. 
What  fearful  thought  is  this  ? 

Valeria. 

Ah,  child,  sweet  child — 

Pier  a. 

Nay,  madam,  take  the  measure  of  our  years 
And  mine  are  more  than  yours. 

Valeria. 

Oh,  I  am  old  — 

Old  as  the  Apennines  !     My  childhood  lies 
Deep  at  their  base  —  too  deep  for  memory, 
And  icy  age  sits  throned  upon  my  brow. 
I  ask  you,  child,  what  fate  could  be  more  sweet 
Than  death  in  love's  first  ecstasy? 

Pier  a. 

Long  life 
Spent  in  love's  service. 

Valeria. 

Be  it  so  to  you ! 
Why  do  you  weep  if  all  is  well  with  you  ? 


Tora. 

Madam,  for  me;  my  choice  is  nearer  yours, 
Since  nearer  death  than  life.     The  world  and  I 
To-morrow  shall  be  parted. 


Valeria .       [  Bowing  reverently.  ] 

Pray  for  me 
When  you  are  vowed  to  God. 


Tora. 

For  you,  great  princess  ? 
Alas  !  what  more  can  you  demand  of  God  ? 

Valeria. 

Such  wisdom  and  such  happiness  as  yours  — 
Strength  to  renounce  ;  for  in  that  bitter  word 
Wisdom  and  joy  clasp  hands  in  ecstasy. 

Tora. 

You  chose  to  read  another.     Love  and  power 
Sing  in  your  ears,  and  will  you  envy  me 
The  one  white  thought  God  whispers  to  my  soul? 
Ah,  leave  me  that!     God  knows  you  have  enough 
To  be  content. 

Valeria. 

Ah  yes!  to  me  the  world, 

And  heaven  to  thee.     To  have  or  to  renounce ! 
Cypress  and  myrtle  are  the  wreaths  of  joy 
Life  crowns  her  chosen  with.     Piera  here 


Shall  wear  the  myrtle  ever  —  all  my  soul 

Prays  heaven  for  that,  but  for  the  cypressed  nun 

No  need  of  prayer —  her  I  congratulate. 

Tor  a. 

4rtftought  you  rich,  and  do  you  envy  me 
My  poverty? 

Valeria. 

That  soul  alone  is  rich 
Who  is  content.     What  feasts  can  satisfy 
Implacable  desire  ?     Would  you  be  free 
Feed  not  the  monster  —  kill  it!     I,  you  see, 
Can  still  philosophize,  whom  Fortune's  wand 
Has  tricked  to  splendor  and  to  happiness. 
Still  must  I  know  what  others  must  endure. 

Pier  a. 

Princess,  you  live  ten  thousand  lives  in  one. 
Are  you  not  tired  ? 

Valeria. 

I  cannot  quite  forget 
The  artist  in  my  blood. 

Piera. 

What  is  an  artist  ? 

Valeria. 
The  mirror  of  all  souls. 


Tor  a. 

Has  such  an  one 

Herself  a  soul  ?     Ah,  madam,  you  were  right, 
And  I  will  pray  for  you. 

Valeria. 

Ho,  this  is  scorn  ! 

Go — whisper  to  the  ocean  ;   lean  upon 
The  shaggy  breast  of  mountains;  ride  afar 
Over  the  soaring  clouds;  then  multiply 
The  narrow  kingdom  of  your  coward  wit 
By  infinite  emotions  and  desires, 
And  you  shall  know  a  little  what  it  is 
To  have  an  artist's  soul. 

Tor  a. 

May  Christ  in  heaven 
Spare  me  the  knowledge  ! 

Valeria. 

Have  no  fear!  not  all 
His  power  could  give  it  you. 

Tor  a. 

Your  highness  — 

[Tora  controls  herself  with  an  effort.] 

Pier  a. 

Nay, 

Each  to  her  happiness.     Now  here  am  I 
103 


Content  with  such  a  lean  and  piteous  wit 
It  scarce  can  stagger  from  the  daily  range, 
Or  stutter  out  a  question  to  the  stars. 
Can  you,  who  are  so  learned  in  ancient  lore, 
Tell  why  I  ignorantly  smile  with  fortune, 
Or  blindly  sadden  when  she  crosses  me  ? 

[Enter  Prince  Andrea  and  Count  Leone.] 

Most  noble  lords,  these  ladies  delve  in  vain 
Deep  in  the  elements.     Come,  rescue  them  ! 

Leo  tie. 
They  are  content.     T  is  you  need  rescuing. 

Pier  a. 

Ah,  let  me  go  !     This  is  my  last  of  freedom  — 
You  would  not  be  so  thievish. 

Leo  ne. 

I  was  born 
Of  a  most  grasping  temper. 

The  Prince. 

Spare  him  not ! 

Your  power  is  waning  —  strain  it  to  the  last. 
My  ladies,  have  you  seen  the  wanderer, 
Our  latest  wedding  guest  ? 

Pier  a. 

A  moment  since 

We  caught  him  with  the  travel-stains  upon  him, 
104 


And  he  was  so  abashed  he  fled  away 
To  don  his  satins. 

Valeria.    [Aside.] 
It  is  Florimond. 

The  Prince. 

My  heart  is  glad  indeed  ;  though  I,  his  friend, 
Might  well  be  jealous  of  his  enemy. 
Some  strange,  mad,  sudden  wish  to  see  the  world 
Made  him  a  truant  from  my  wedding;  yet 
He  dares  return  for  yours. 

Leone. 

'T  is  but  revenge. 
He  longs  to  see  her  bowed  under  the  yoke. 

Valeria. 

Count,  you  would  jest  at  death.     Most  noble  ladies, 
Your  confessors  await  you,  and  we  crave 
No  further  talk  to-night. 

Tor  a.     [To  Piera.] 

Ah  !     God  is  good 
To  call  me  hence. 

Piera. 
Hush,  child  ! 

The  Prince. 

Leone, 

The  king  desires  your  presence  for  a  moment. 
105 


I  '11  join  you  soon.     Sleep  well  to-night,  fair  maiden. 
Leone  shall  awake  you  with  a  song. 

[Exeunt  Leone,  Tora,  and  Piera,  bowing.] 

Vakria. 
When  did  the  count  return  ? 

The  Prince. 

An  hour  ago. 

I  vow  thou  art  more  royal  than  the  heir 
Of  fifty  kings.     Who  taught  thee  to  command  ? 
1  love  to  see  thee  queen  it  over  them. 

Valeria. 
T  is  not  so  difficult  a  part  to  play. 

The  Prince. 

Yet  once  I  loved  thee  for  thy  simpleness, 
Thy  sweet,  wild  freedom  from  the  taint  of  courts, 
That  breed  hypocrisy. 

Valeria.      [Wearily.] 

Ah  !  once  for  that, 

To-day  for  this,  to-morrow  for  the  other. 
Pray,  can  you  never  love  me  for  myself? 

The  Prince. 
What  means  my  wife  ? 

106 


Valeria. 

Oh,  I  am  not  so  good, 
So  simple, nor  so  loyal  as  you  dream. 
Your  will  enslaves  your  eyes.     You  see  in  me 
The  image  of  your  thought.     You  know  me  not. 

The  Prince. 

I  know  your  steadfast  truth  and  gentleness. 
If  there  is  ought  beside  in  woman's  soul 
Let  me  not  know  it ! 

Valeria. 

There  is  much  beside 
You  cannot  catalogue  by  phrases  thus. 
We  range  in  flowery  fields,  'mid  changing  winds, 
The  skies  all  in  an  April  mood  for  showers, 
While  you  would  prison  us  in  nice  ideas. 
Ah,  give  your  fancy  wings,  and  try  to  feel 
What  't  is  to  be  a  woman. 

The  Prince.     [Embracing  her.] 

What  care  I 

For  all  the  women  in  the  world  but  one  ? 
I  cannot  tell  how  deep  is  my  content. 
Fear  not  this  weight  of  honors  —  thou  couldst  wear 
The  crown  of  all  the  Caesars  on  thy  brow 
And  not  be  overborne.     That  thou  art  happy 
And  rescued  from  the  sloughs  of  circumstance 
107 


Is  joy  that  chokes  my  prayers  with  thankfulness. 

Strive  always  to  be  cheerful  as  thy  fate ; 

And  be  not  jealous  if  the  king's  affairs 

Pluck  me  away  from  thee.     Even  now,  my  sweet, 

He  waits  me.     Strange  designs  must  be  discussed. 

Valeria. 
What  strange  designs  ? 

The  Prince. 

Lady  inquisitive, 

Thou  wouldst  not  know.     Think  of  a  song  instead 
I  long  to  hear  a  song  when  I  return 
After  my  hour  of  penance. 

Valeria. 

Wouldst  thou  hear 
The  caged  lark  sing  ? 

The  Prince. 

I  fear  thou  art  not  well. 
I  '11  send  to  thee  some  people  to  beguile 
Thy  loneliness. 

Valeria. 

No — 1  am  very  well. 
I  do  not  fear  an  hour  of  solitude. 
Go  to  the  king. 

108 


The  Prince. 
First  crown  me  with  a  kiss. 

[He  kisses  her.     Exit  the  Prince.] 

Valeria. 

Oh,  when  he  touches  me,  I  hate  him  so 
That  I  do  fear  myself.     What  shall  I  do  ? 
My  God  !  what  shall  I  do  ?     To  be  a  wife  — 
What  is  it  but  to  walk  in  mortal  shame, 
And  see  no  shrine  where  plumed  hope  may  rest 
And  beckon  to  the  soul  !     If  I  could  die  — 
Like  honey  from  the  fields  of  liberty 
The  draught  of  death  would  taste.     Oh,  to  be  free  ! 
To  dance  once  more  adown  the  blooming  roads, 
My  soul  all  song  !     To  sleep  beneath  the  stars, 
Close  to  the  heart  of  Nature,  and  to  hear 
Her  whispers  all  alone  !     To  wander  hence 
Back  to  the  past — to  hunger,  nakedness  ! 
I  cannot  breathe.     I  can  but  gnaw  the  chains 
That  link  my  soul  to  earth  forevermore  — 
While  Fate  stands  mocking  me,  and  crying  loud, 
I  have  fulfilled  thy  dreams  !     Blind  fool  of  fortune  - 
Tempted  by  glitter,  gulled  by  the  show  of  power, 
Tricked  by  ambition  into  slavery, 
And  dumb  with  my  despair  ! 

—  And  one  has  come 

Whose  glance  will  read  it  all,  though  it  be  hid 
'Neath  rosy  heights  of  laughter,  though  I  pile 
109 


Vast  clouds  of  happy  phrases  to  conceal 
The  burning  horror  at  my  heart.     His  hand 
Will  touch  it — he  will  know. 

Ah,  saints  in  heaven  ! 
If  I  could  only  play  it  to  the  end  — 
This  role  1  blindly  chose  —and  be  a  queen 
Even  over  misery  ! 

[Enter  Florimond.     Valeria  rises  and  confronts  him.] 

Why  do  you  come 
Intruding  on  my  solitude  ? 

Florimond. 

Is  this 
Your  greeting  after  all  the  weary  months  ? 

Valeria. 

To-morrow  I  will  welcome  you.     To-night 
I  crave  the  hour  alone. 

Florimond. 

Upon  my  soul 
I  bow  before  you. 

Valeria. 
Count ! 

Florimond. 

This  royal  farce  — 
You  play  it  to  the  life. 


Valeria. 

What  right  have  you 
To  question  my  commands? 

Florimond. 

Ah  !  none  at  all. 

The  man  who  loves  you,  he  whose  memory  bears 
The  record  of  your  vows  —  what  right  has  he 
To  anything  but  scorn  ? 

Valeria. 

Man,  have  you  lived 

So  long  upon  this  earth,  and  never  learned 
Some  pages  in  the  book  of  memory 
Must  be  erased  forever  ? 

Florimond. 

Woman,  woman, 

Canst  thou  erase  the  pages  written  deep 
In  heart's-blood  from  a  wound  that  never  heals  ? 
Hast  thou  forgotten  all  ? 

Valeria. 

\  will  forget. 

Florimond. 

Oh,  empty  boast !     Who  can  escape  the  past? 
Not  all  thy  tears  through  weary  years  of  woe 
Shall  wash  one  word  away.     Why  should  we  speak 


The  chatter  of  the  court,  as  if  my  heart 
Knew  not  each  throb  of  thine  ?     Unhappy  one  ! 
I  cannot  see  thee  suffer  and  be  dumb. 
I  know  what  thou  hast  done. 

Valeria. 

And  if  you  know 

Why  do  you  torture  me  ?     What  I  have  done 
I  freely  did.     I  only  am  to  blame. 

Florimond. 

No,  not  to  blame.     Thy  soul  an  eagle  is, 
Seeking  the  sun.     It  is  not  strange  at  all 
That  eyes  unwonted  to  the  light  of  power 
Mistook  the  bauble  on  a  royal  brow 
For  the  full  orb  of  day.     No  —  not  to  blame  ! 
The  tortures  I  have  suffered  in  thy  loss 
Urged  no  reproach  to  thee. 

Valeria. 

'T  is  generous ! 

Ah !  would  to  God  the  voice  within  my  heart 
Might  be  as  merciful ! 

Florimond. 

Think  not  of  that! 

The  past  is  with  the  dead,  and  like  a  corse 
Abhorrent  to  the  thought.     Let  not  thy  soul 
Sink  in  the  grave  with  rotten  memories 


To  taint  the  coming  years.     Art  thou  not  brave? 
Hast  thou  no  thought  beyond  thine  own  distress  ? 
The  times  are  comfortless.     A  million  souls 
Are  longing  for  deliverance,  and  thou  — 
What  hast  thou  done  ? 

Valeria. 

What  do  I  know,  my  lord, 
Of  the  wide  world  beyond  me  ? 

Florimond. 

Wouldst  thou  know? 

Valeria. 
I  faint  for  knowledge. 

Florimond. 

Though  its  cup  were  red 
With  human  blood  and  salt  with  human  tears, 
Still  would  you  drink  it  ? 

Valeria. 

To  the  dregs,  my  lord. 
Think  you  I  have  no  pity? 

Florimond. 

Are  you  still 

A  daughter  of  the  people  ?     Though  you  wear 
Gaudy  disguises,  are  you  loyal  still 
To  the  rude  blood  that  warms  you  ? 

"3 


Valeria. 

I  would  give 

These  gauds  and  all  I  ever  hoped  of  power 
For  one  wild  dance  along  the  grassy  fields. 
All  this  is  but  the  badge  of  slavery, 
The  emblem  of  despair.     If  you  can  see 
A  window  in  my  prison,  lead  me  there, 
And  let  me  view  again  the  mighty  world 
Where  I  can  rove  no  more. 

Florimond. 

Then  come  with  me, 
And  through  the  window  of  my  memory 
Gaze  out  upon  the  past.     What  dost  thou  see  ? 
A  city,  cradled  on  a  tide-swept  shore, 
Whose  infant  ears  heard  from  the  clamorous  surf, 
From  salt  sea-winds  and  thunderous  mountain  gales, 
But  one  word  —  liberty  !     And  as  she  grew, 
Bathing  her  strong  free  limbs  in  mighty  seas, 
Circling  o'er  broad  domains  her  puissant  arms, 
That  word  was  still  the  key-note  of  her  song, 
And  from  her  lovely  eyes  fierce  lightnings  flashed 
At  thought  of  an  oppressor.     Year  by  year 
And  age  by  age  her  comeliness  increased, 
And  every  violent  hand  that  dared  assail 
She  hurled  to  ruin,  all  her  soul  athrill 
With  the  fierce  pride  of  freedom.     Long  she  reigned, 
And  all  her  people,  gladdened  by  her  smile, 
114 


Wrought  for  her  glory,  till  her  shining  hair 
Was  strung  with  diamonds,  and  her  spotless  robe 
With  pearls  embroidered  and  with  silks  enriched, 
Until  in  splendid  modesty  she  stood 
Peerless  among  the  nations.     Thus  she  was  ! 
Alas  !     What  is  she  now  ? 

Valeria. 

Ah  !  even  as  I  — 
Wedded  to  misery. 

Florimond. 

Not  wedded  —  no, 

Despoiled,  shamed,  outraged!     Ah,  the  bitter  tale 
They  sweetened  for  thee.     Listen  to  the  truth. 

Valeria. 
Oh,  let  me  know  it ! 

Florimond. 

When  this  king  was  young 
He  and  his  tribe  were  exiled  for  their  crimes  — 
A  violent  faction,  who  had  dashed  with  blood 
The  robes  of  liberty.     For  years  they  wandered 
Over  the  face  of  Italy,  in  vain 
Seeking  to  soothe  the  rigid  front  of  justice; 
While  we  at  home  basked  in  the  noon  of  peace, 
Busy  with  dreams,  blind  summer  slumberers. 
At  last  a  cloud  came  thundering  from  the  north ; 

"5 


A  military  chief — soldier  of  fortune  — 

Hung  cities  on  his  sword-belt,  as  a  thief 

Slips  jewels  in  his  pocket,  till  his  arm 

Threatened  our  citadel  inviolate. 

Then  we  awoke  into  a  strange  eclipse, 

And,  mad  with  fear,  we  called  our  exiles  home 

To  fight  the  foreign  foe.     The  call  rang  forth 

And  roused  them  from  despair.     With  sword  and  spear 

O'er  hills  and  seas  they  came,  and  ranged  their  strength 

Under  the  banner  which  my  father  bore  — 

The  state's  appointed  captain. 

But  their  aid 

Was  needless,  for  the  threatening  despot  died, 
And  the  fantastic  structure  of  his  power 
Fell  like  a  summer  dream. 

When  all  was  safe 

Within  the  city's  walls  flashed  up  once  more 
O'ershadowed  memory,  and  the  bloody  past 
Rose  like  a  ghost,  with  hand  omnipotent 
Closing  the  clanging  gates,  and  hurling  thence 
A  new  decree  of  banishment  against 
The  gathered  host  of  exiled  wanderers. 

Valeria. 

Pitiless  mother !  could  she  not  forgive 
Her  sons  who  came  to  save  ? 

Florimond. 

Who  came  to  save  ! 
Nay,  to  devour!     Ruin  was  in  their  hearts  — 

116 


The  savage  hearts  of  traitors.     To  their  arms 

Nothing  she  owed,  for  not  a  sword  was  flushed 

When  death  struck  down  the  foe.     Yet  some  abhorred 

Even  the  suspicion  of  a  stain,  and  pleaded 

For  their  admission.     Lo  !  even  while  they  prayed 

Swift  as  a  rocket  sprang  the  signal  forth, 

And  war  was  at  our  doors.     All  Italy 

Was  roused  or  cowed  by  the  arch  mischief-breeder, 

And  wrought  for  our  despair,  or  stood  agape 

While  the  inviolate  city  he  had  sworn 

To  cherish  and  defend  he  stripped  and  plundered 

Of  every  rag  of  honor. 

Valeria. 
'T  was  the  king  ! 

Florimond. 

Ay,  't  was  the  king,  who  should  have  died  to  save 
His  country  from  a  tyrant.     He  it  was 
Who  led  a  mob  of  fierce  adventurers — 
The  cutthroats  of  all  nations  and  his  own  — 
Straight  to  his  childhood's  home,  whose  loveliness 
Long  peace  had  garlanded,  and  turned  them  loose 
To  wreak  their  horrid  will  and  his  revenge. 

Valeria. 
Oh,  horrible  ! 

Florimond. 

Should  I  reveal  it  all  — 

The  story  of  those  days  so  charged  with  crime  — 
Your  soul  would  sicken,  and  your  heart  grow  old. 
117 


Valeria. 

Am  I  not  guilty  too  ?     'T  is  fit  I  know 
The  sins  I  have  espoused. 

Florimond. 

Not  all  — not  all. 

One  deed  will  be  enough  to  prove  the  whole  — 
The  death  of  one  old  man.     A  gentle  mind 
Was  his,  brave  and  compassionate  and  true. 
He  pleaded  for  these  outlaws,  would  have  risked 
Receiving  them  as  brothers  at  the  hearth 
They  had  so  wantonly  profaned. 
The  rack  was  his  reward ;  and  when  his  soul 
Seemed  to  have  vanished  from  its  ruthless  clutch 
They  flung  his  body  in  the  street,  and  mocked 
Our  white-lipped  agony. 

Valeria. 

And  the  great  God 
Could  watch  it  from  his  heaven  ! 

Florimond. 

Beyond  —  beyond 

He  saw  the  end,  and  planted  in  that  deed 
The  seeds  of  retribution  ;  for  the  life 
Pent  in  that  form,  torn,  mangled,  piteous, 
Sprang  to  cold  lips  again,  breathed  fiery  words 
No  mortal  soul  could  hear  and  disobey. 
And  at  the  last,  when  death  drooped  over  him, 

118 


He  smiled,  for  his  ancestral  legacy  — 

The  love  of  freedom,  and  the  hate  of  wrong  — 

His  son  had  vowed  to  vindicate  —  or  die. 

Valeria. 
And  you  are  he. 

Florimond. 
'T  was  I  who  made  that  vow. 

Valeria. 
And  you  have  lived  so  long  without  revenge. 

Florimond. 

Revenge  which  will  be  sure  must  needs  be  slow. 
The  time  has  come. 

Valeria. 

The  method  and  the  means — 
Tell  me,  I  must  know  all. 

Florimond. 

Will  you  be  strong  ? 

Valeria. 
As  strong  as  death. 

Florimond. 

Do  you  love  liberty? 

Valeria. 

I  —  liberty  ?     You  who  have  seen  me  free  — 
You  ask  me  that  ? 

119 


Florimond. 

Would  you  for  liberty, 
The  freedom  of  a  million  souls  enslaved, 
Strike  one  brave  blow,  risk  one  soft  luxury 
Of  praise  or  pleasure,  or  of  peaceful  days  ? 

Valeria. 

\  would  give  all  !     What  can  she  ask  of  me 
I  would  not  proudly  grant  ? 

Florimond. 

Then  her  demand 
Will  be  your  law  ? 

Valeria, 

I  swear  it.     Would  to  God 
That  I  could  free  the  world  ! 

Florimond. 

This  guilty  race 
Must  die. 

Valeria. 

And  is  the  other  guilty  too  — 
My  husband  ? 

Florimond. 

When  the  streets  ran  red  with  blood, 
Almost  a  child  he  stood  beside  his  father 
Cheering  and  urging  on  the  murderous  work  — 
A  frenzied  fiend  of  impious  energy. 


In  him  the  crimes  of  future  years  are  lodged. 
And  shall  he  live  ?     You  who  have  felt  the  bonds, 
Can  aught  but  death  level  his  jagged  will  ? 

Valeria. 

My  soul  is  on  the  rack  beneath  it,  yet 
There  seems  in  him  a  kind  of  innocence  — 
As  who  should  stroke  a  bird  that  longs  to  fly, 
And  dream  it  loves  the  touch. 

Florimond. 

There  lies  the  peril. 
Craft  we  can  meet,  but  such  simplicity 
Is  like  a  gag  choking  our  weary  groans 
Till  the  world  deems  our  silence  happiness. 
His  soul  breathes  incense  as  its  natural  air. 
The  state  is  on  the  rack,  yet  in  his  mind 
She  rests  upon  a  bed  of  violets, 
Dreaming  of  naught  but  love  and  gratitude. 
Himself  is  in  his  eye,  and  all  the  world 
Is  but  his  shadow.     He  is  the  enemy. 
When  he  is  dead  freedom  will  rise  again 
Fearless  and  strong.     She  does  not  dread  the  king. 

Valeria. 
How  shall  he  die  ? 

Florimond. 

Dear  lady,  't  is  to  you 
The  stricken  city  calls.     Insulted  justice 

121 


Arms  you  for  her  revenge.     I  have  a  weapon, 
Petty  yet  potent. 

[He  drops  a  pellet  into  a  cup   on  the  table,  and  fills  it  with  wine 
from  a  vessel  standing  near.] 

When  the  prince  comes  back 
Give  him  this  golden  wine.     He  will  not  feel  it. 
Pain  will  not  touch  nor  frenzy  torture  him, 
And  death  will  give  no  sign  for  many  hours; 
Yet  when  this  time  to-morrow  shall  have  rung 
He  will  exist  no  more. 

Valeria. 

— Exist  no  more  — 
There  is  no  other  way — it  must  be  done? 

Florimond. 
For  God  and  liberty. 

Valeria. 

And  when  't  is  done 
Will  all  be  over? 

Florimond. 

The  people  are  in  arms, 
And  we  will  fight  for  it.     To-morrow  night 
The  city  shall  be  free. 

Valeria. 

Have  they  no  friends  — 

They  who  were  once  so  strong  ?    Was  he  not  crowned 
By  suffrage  of  the  people  ? 


Fhrimond. 

You  have  heard  it  — 

Their  treacherous  boast !     Perchance  there  was  a  day 
When  fear  went  mad,  and  bought  security 
With  shame.     The  knife  was  at  the  city's  throat, 
But  far  away  the  fields  were  clad  in  blue  — 
The  future  smiled  redemption,  and  she  looked, 
And  could  not  die.     But  she  remembers  well, 
And  for  the  past  to-morrow  will  atone. 

Valeria. 
And  we  shall  all  be  free  forevermore. 

Florimond. 

Sweet  is  the  sacred  wrath  of  Liberty  — 
Lovely  her  flaming  eyes !     But  sweeter  far 
Her  tenderness  for  those  who  serve  her  well. 
The  noblest  sons  of  time  have  writ  their  names 
In  stars  about  her  brow,  and  with  them  now 
Thine  own  will  shine  forever. 

Valeria. 

I  could  die 

To  be  enshrined  in  the  world's  love  forever. 
I  would  fear  nothing,  suffer  everything. 

Florimond. 
I  know  it,  and  I  trust  thee. 

[Enter  Prince  Andrea,  a  bloody  sword  in  his  hand.] 
123 


The  Prince. 

He  is  dead  — 
The  slanderer  ! 

Valeria. 
What  means  this  bloody  sword? 

The  Prince. 
He  slandered  thee,  and  so  I  struck  him  dead. 

Valeria. 
Who  slandered  me  ? 

The  Prince. 
Leone. 

Valeria. 

And  you  killed  him? 

The  Prince. 

Listen  !   he  said  you  were  conspiring  here  — 
My  wife,  my  friend  !  — conspiring  for  my  death. 
'T  is  false  !  and  he  is  dead. 

He  dared  to  say  it  — 
No  man  can  whisper  such  a  calumny 
And  stand  against  my  sword! — he  told  me  there 
The  wine  was  poisoned —  't  is  a  damned  lie  ! 

[He  suddenly  seizes  the  cup.    Valeria  makes  a  motion  to  arrest  him, 
but  he  drains  it  instantly.] 

Now  is  the  slander  dead,  and  gone  to  hell  ! 

[Valeria  falls  to  the  ground,  and  embraces  his  feet.] 
124 


Valeria. 
My  husband ! 

The  Prince. 

Oh,  my  wife  !  that  he  should  say  it ! 
What  could  1  do  but  kill  him  ? 

[Curtain.] 


125 


ACT  IV 

SCENE. —  Same  as  Act  III.     Enter  in  great  excitement  Agnolo  and 
Filippo. 

Agnolo. 
Who  is  the  assassin? 

Filippo. 

Who  can  name  him  now? 
The  Count  Leone  had  no  enemies. 

Agnolo. 

I  loved  him  !     I  would  give  this  my  right  hand 
To  know  the  dastard  who  has  struck  him  down. 
The  awful  days  are  come  again,  when  hate 
Hides  in  a  dirk  and  dares  not  wield  a  sword  ; 
When  every  friend  may  be  an  enemy, 
And  every  cup  a  lurking-place  for  death. 

Filippo. 

Ah,  nevermore  !     The  king  will  know  the  truth 
And  punish,  as  of  old.     'T  was  I  who  told  him  — 
1  know  it  by  the  fury  in  his  eyes. 
129 


Agnolo. 

\  told  the  unhappy  lady  who  should  be 
His  bride  to-day.     I  roused  her  from  her  sleep, 
And  told  her  they  had  found  her  lover  dead, 
Wishing  that  I  were  buried  with  my  news. 

Filippo. 
Poor  lady,  did  she  weep  ? 

Agnolo. 

Her  eyes  were  dry, 

Her  face  white  as  a  shroud.  She  said  no  word, 
But  followed  to  his  bier,  where  now  she  clings 
Moaning  and  fondling  him.  It  maddens  me  ! 

Filippo. 

Be  calm,  and  trust  the  king.     High  in  the  state 
Was  the  dead  count,  Prince  Andrea's  cherished  friend. 
His  death  will  be  avenged. 

Agnolo. 

Look  where  she  comes ! 

That  face  of  hers  will  haunt  me  in  my  dreams. 
Come  —  let  us  go. 

[Exeunt  Agnolo  and   Filippo.      Enter  Tora  and  Piera,   the  latter 
passive  in  her  friend's  hands.] 

Tora. 

Piera,  speak  to  me ! 
Is  there  no  comfort  in  the  tears  of  God 
That  thou  shouldst  be  so  still  ? 
130 


Piera. 

There 's  naught  to  say. 

Tora. 
There  's  death  to  mourn,  justice  to  be  invoked. 

Piera. 

Justice  !     How  can  they  give  me  justice  now, 
When  he  is  dead? 

Tora. 

Against  the  coward  hand 
That  murdered  him  wilt  thou  not  cry  aloud? 
[Aside.]     My  brain  is  branded  with  a  name;  mine  eyes 
Can  see  naught  else — it  is  Valeria  ! 
Somewhere —  I  know  not  how  —  her  finger  lies 
Under  this  mischief;  I  would  stake  my  soul, 
So  sure  am  I !     [To  Piera.]     Shall  the  assassin  live  ? 

Piera. 

If  they  could  steep  his  impious  soul  in  blood 
Would  that  restore  my  husband  to  my  arms  ? 
There  is  no  justice  in  the  courts  of  heaven 
Or  he  would  not  have  died. 

Tora. 

Poor  soul  of  woman  ! 

Wilt  thou  assail  the  Omnipotent,  and  dream 
The  universe  has  wandered  from  its  course 
To  thwart  thy  love  ?     Others  have  lived  and  died 
And  suffered,  and  the  long  procession  moves 


Inexorably  on.     When  thou  art  dust 

God's  lips  will  scarce  have  sipped  the  eternal  years    • 

Of  justice. 

Pier  a. 

If  the  sword  that  murdered  him 
Had  sought  my  heart  as  well,  I  would  have  blessed  it, 
And  called  the  stroke  my  marriage  to  my  love. 
If  but  to-day  had  passed,  and  I  were  his, 
And  then  the  blow  had  fallen,  I  could  have  seen 
Some  mercy  in  it.     But  to  lose  him  now 
Without  a  word,  to  dream  away  the  hours 
While  he  was  lying  cold  —  ah,  verily 
I  am  an  exile  from  the  love  of  God ; 
The  saints  to  whom  I  prayed  are  impotent ! 

Tora. 

Hast  thou  forgot  that  't  is  thy  wedding-day? 
Is  this  a  time  for  blasphemous  despair  ? 

Pur*. 

In  all  the  world  what  now  is  left  for  me  ? 

Tora. 

For  thee  is  light  or  darkness,  for  the  path 
Of  sorrow  leads  to  both.     A  million  saints 
Have  found  such  glory  at  the  end  of  it 
As  passes  happiness;  but  for  the  weak  — 
It  lures  them  to  the  pit.     Thy  lord  was  brave, 
132 


And  wilt  thou  be  a  coward  ?     Duty  was 
His  guiding  star.     Wouldst  thou  be  true  to  him 
If  thou  shouldst  fail  to  do  thy  part  in  the  world, 
Listening  humbly  to  the  voice  of  God? 

Pier  a. 

What  shall  I  do  ?     I  am  alone  —  alone, 
My  sister. 

Tor  a. 

So  —  't  is  good  that  thou  shouldst  weep. 
Tears  are  God's  dew  for  sorrow — let  them  fall ! 
Richer  than  pearls  are  they,  more  potent  far 
Than  minted  gold.     Weep  on,  but  when  thou  hast  done 
Let  wrath  possess  thy  soul. 

Piera. 

In  God's  name,  whom 
Dost  thou  suspect  ? 

Tor  a. 

If  that  pernicious  soul 
Who  clamors  for  suspicion  in  my  brain 
Know  aught  of  this,  the  tortures  of  the  damned 
Would  be  light  punishment. 

Piera. 

Ah,  pity  me  ! 

Who  is  it  ?     In  this  woful  labyrinth 
Give  me  some  clue. 

133 


Tora. 

I  will  not  sleep  for  searching. 
It  is  not  fit  I  speak  without  the  proof; 
The  thought  is  but  a  cobweb  in  my  mind. 
Let  me  but  find  a  thread  slight  as  a  hair 
And  it  is  yours. 

Pier  a. 

To  whom  shall  I  appeal 
If  you  deny  me  ? 

[Enter  the  King.     Piera  falls,  sobbing,  to  her  knees  at  his  feet.] 

Sire  ! 

The  King. 

Nay,  child  —  I  know. 

This  damned  news  has  stabbed  me  to  the  soul. 
Poor  bride  !  poor  lady  !     Have  I  any  power 
To  give  you  comfort  ? 

Piera. 

Give  me  death  or  justice  — 
Both,  if  you  can  be  merciful ! 

The  King. 

This  deed 

Shall  be  avenged —  I  swear  it  by  the  cross, 
And  by  the  sacred  blood  of  all  the  saints. 

Piera. 
He  was  so  kind  ! 

134 


The  King. 

Not  ours  a  reign  of  fear  — 
Hate  armed  with  murder  sheathed  in  secrecy. 
The  old  mad  doom  of  Italy  is  ours 
If  order  be  enslaved.      Thy  murdered  lord 
Was  dearest  in  our  love,  and  shall  he  now 
Die  like  a  rat  here  in  our  very  halls, 
And  his  assassin  live  ? 

[Enter  Florimond,  unperceived. ] 

That  wide-mouthed  wound 
Shall  not  appeal  in  vain.     Trust  to  the  state, 
Essay  no  private  stroke  for  his  revenge, 
And  we  will  know  the  truth,  and  the  red  hand 
That  struck  him  down  shall  follow  to  the  grave : 
I  promise  it. 

Florimond.      [Advancing.] 

Most  righteous  is  the  word. 
Dear  lady,  I  can  long  for  nothing  now 
Except  to  serve  thee. 

Pier  a.     [ToTora.] 

Take  me  back  to  him  — 
My  husband ! 

Tor  a. 

Then  the  guilty  all  must  die, 
Whoever  they  may  be  ? 

135 


The  King. 

Have  I  not  sworn  it  ? 

Tor  a. 

Amen  !     May  Christ  have  mercy  on  the  souls 
Of  all  of  us  ! 

[Exeunt  Tora  and  Piera.] 

The  King. 

What  enemies  had  he, 
Or  private  quarrels  that  we  knew  not  of? 

Florimond. 

I  never  knew  a  creature  better  loved. 
He  had  a  thousand  friends,  but  not  a  foe  — 
Or  so  I  thought ;  yet  I  know  naught  of  him 
These  many  months. 

The  King. 

Arouse  Prince  Andrea, 
And  say  we  wish  to  speak  with  him. 

[Exit  Florimond  by  a  side  door;  he  is  heard  clamoring  without.] 

Florimond. 

My  lord ! 
Come  forth  !  the  king  desires  you  —  wake,  my  lord  ! 

The  King. 

Is  it  in  vain  that  I  have  planned  and  toiled, 
And  struck  great  blows  for  punishment,  to  give 
136 


Laws  to  my  country,  and  to  make  her  strong 

Under  the  rule  of  order?     Must  I  now 

See  feuds  grow  fierce  and  know  not  where  to  strike  ? 

I  will  not  suffer  it.     The  state  shall  know 

And  punish,  that  revenge  may  be  disarmed, 

And  the  great  house  whereof  he  was  the  head 

Fail  not  in  loyalty. 

[Enter  Florimond  and  Prince  Andrea,  by  the  side  door.     As  they 
enter  Florimond  speaks  aside  to  the  Prince.] 

Florimond. 
Fear  no  betrayal 
From  me,  my  lord.     I  have  not  said  a  word. 

The  Prince. 
What  should  I  fear? 

[Florimond  bows  himself  out,  but  returns  unobserved  to  a  sheltered 
nook  at  the  rear,  where  he  remains  during  the  following 
dialogue.  ] 

The  King. 

Advise  me,  Andrea. 
You  know  this  news  ? 

The  Prince. 

Leone's  death  ?     I  know  it. 

The  King. 

What  shall  we  do  ?     A  crime  so  infamous 
Cannot  be  fitly  punished.     Stabbed  to  death 
137 


Upon  his  wedding-morning  —  one  so  true, 
Whose  house  was  always  loyal  to  our  rule  — 
Our  noblest  subject  and  our  dearest  friend. 
The  vile  assassin  who  has  robbed  us  of  him 
Shall  die  a  thousand  deaths. 

The  Prince. 

Your  tongue  's  a  fool ! 
1  killed  him  — I! 

The  King. 
You  killed  him  ! 

The  Prince. 

It  was  I  ! 

Will  you  not  hear  ?     I  killed  him  like  a  dog  ! 
Thank  God  that  he  is  dead  ! 

The  King. 

Why  did  you  kill  him  ? 

The  Prince. 

My  reason  was  sufficient.     He  deserved 
The  furnace  or  the  rack. 

The  King. 

What  was  your  reason  ? 

The  Prince. 

Are  you  not  satisfied  ?     I  say  't  was  good, 
And  more  I  will  not  say. 

138 


The  King, 

By  heaven,  you  will ! 
Or  the  black  question  shall  extort  the  truth. 

The  Prince. 

Am  I  afraid  ?  God  !  this  is  dangerous  ! 
My  tongue  is  mine,  to  wag  it  as  I  will. 
The  torture  will  not  move  it. 

The  King. 

I  have  sworn 

Leone's  murderer  shall  follow  him 
Down  to  the  grave.     I  swore  it  by  the  cross, 
And  by  the  sacred  blood  of  all  the  saints. 
His  virgin-widow's  tears  shall  be  avenged. 
Give  me  the  cause  that  I  may  fix  the  guilt 
Where  it  should  be,  or  by  my  oath  in  heaven 
Your  head  shall  suffer. 

The  Prince. 

All  the  guilt  is  mine. 

None  aided,  none  conspired.    I  struck  him  dead 
With  this  my  sword.     Do  as  you  will  with  me. 

The  King. 

Oh,  this  is  death  !     Andrea,  my  son,  my  son  ! 
Wilt  thou  not  tell  me  ?     Surely  it  was  grave, 
Thy  cause  for  such  a  deed.     Reveal  it  all, 
139 


And  I  will  warrant  thee  against  the  world, 
And  crave  the  Holy  Father  on  my  knees 
To  free  me  of  my  vow. 

The  Prince. 

Fulfil  it,  rather. 

I  do  not  fear  to  die.     My  youth  has  passed 
Over  a  lovely  country  flecked  with  flowers. 
What  time  more  fitting  for  the  swoop  of  death, 
Ere  yet  the  skies  grow  dull,  and  the  bleak  wastes 
Stretch  nightward  round  my  soul  ?     Fulfil  thy  vow, 
And  I  will  bless  thee  that  my  day  of  joy 
Shall  have  no  night  of  sorrow. 

The  King. 

Andrea  ! 

Hast  thou  forgot  our  love  ?     Hast  thou  forgot 
The  day  thy  mother  died?     She  bade  us  live 
As  friends  and  brothers  — knitted  soul  to  soul, 
Even  as  in  marriage — and  we  pledged  it  there. 
We  have  been  one  in  thought,  and  shall  this  specter 
Rise  like  a  blight  between  us  ?     Tell  me  all. 
When  have  I  failed  thee  ?     If  this  blow  was  thine 
Why  then  't  is  mine  as  well.     If  thou  hast  suffered 
My  heart  is  rived  an  hundred-fold.     My  son, 
Canst  thou  not  trust  me  ? 

I  have  yielded  oft 
My  will  to  thine.     When  thou  wast  but  a  child 


And  the  great  house  of  Vancua  was  doomed, 
I  saved  its  youngest  heir  to  be  thy  friend 
Because  thy  heart  was  moved  to  pity  him. 
When  thou  didst  name  the  woman  of  thy  love 
I  suffered  thee  to  wed  her,  though  the  state 
And  all  the  world  opposed  me ;  and  my  heart 
Has  claimed  her  as  mine  own. 

The  Prince. 

He  slandered  her — 

It  was  for  that  I  killed  him.     When  I  left  you 
He  stood  beside  that  door  and  whispered  me 
A  most  abusive  tale  —  of  her,  my  wife, 
And  Florimond,  my  friend.     Conspiracy, 
Murder,  and  poison  were  its  elements. 
I  smote  him  with  my  sword.     You  would  have  done 
The  same,  if  you  had  heard.     I  struck  him  down, 
Walked  in  upon  his  fell  conspirators, 
And  drank  the  wine  he  warned  me  of — and  see  — 
I  am  not  dead  ! 

The  King.    [Aside.] 

And  thus  thy  day  of  joy 

Shall  have  no  night  of  sorrow.     God  in  heaven, 

Thou  dost  fulfil  my  vow. 

The  Prince. 

I  am  the  son 

Of  one  who  held  the  honor  of  his  wife 
141 


As  sacred  as  the  chalice  of  our  God  — 

Of  one  who  would  have  scorched  the  impious  hand 

That  dared  pollute  the  whiteness  of  her  robe. 

If  it  were  she  whom  slander  had  assailed, 

What  would  my  sire  have  done  ? 

The  King. 

He  would  have  killed. 
And  thou,  his  son  and  hers,  couldst  do  no  less. 

The  Prince. 
Thank  God ! 

The  King. 

Leone's  doom  was  in  the  stars  — 
God  willed  it.     On  thine  uncorrupted  soul 
His  blood  shall  never  rest ! 

The  Prince. 

May  scorn  and  wrath 

Part  us  no  more  !     Now  could  I  die  for  thee 

For  thy  rash  vow. 

[The  Prince  is  seized  with  a  spasm,  under  which  he  sinks  to  a 
couch,  writhing  in  pain  and  unconscious.  The  King  stands 
over  him.] 

The  King. 

It  is  the  Persian  poison  — 

Do  I  not  know  it  ?     Death  has  clutched  him  now 
With  one  red  hand  —  perchance  to  play  with  him 
142 


And  toss  him  back  to  life.     Mother  of  Christ ! 

If  I  have  ever  served  thee  for  an  hour, 

Rend  him  one  hour  from  death  !     Oh,  give  him  back 

Ere  the  dark  wings  fold  blinding  over  him 

For  all  eternity  ! 

The  doom  has  fallen. 
The  structure  I  have  builded  is  aflame, 
Falling  to  ashes.     I  can  work  no  more. 
I,  who  destroyed  that  we  might  build  anew, 
Am  met  by  the  destroyer,  and  my  dream 
Of  union  for  discordant  Italy, 
Whose  soul  was  once  the  empire  of  the  world, 
Lies  here  in  ruins.     Deadly  Italy! 
Thou  sepulcher  of  nations,  on  whose  portal 
Curses  are  writ  for  hope,  and  sneers  for  love, 
Whose  shrine  is  strewn  with  bones  and  dashed  with 

blood 

Of  heroes  numberless,  how  long,  how  long 
Must  thy  sons  die  for  thee,  and  die  in  vain  ! 
Where  is  thy  throne,  where  is  thy  regal  crown 
Among  the  nations  ?     Buried  deep  in  shame, 
Where  thou  liest  sunken  in  a  sullen  sleep. 
We  call  thee,  and  our  cries  thou  wilt  not  hear  — 
We  draw  thy  sword,  yet  cannot  rouse  thy  soul. 
Beware  lest  thou  awake  to  slavery  — 
Lest  the  barbarian  kings  descend  on  thee 
And  bind  thy  fatal  loveliness  in  chains  ! 

[The  Prince  quietly  recovers  consciousness,  and  rises.] 
143 


The  Prince. 
What  is  there  ill  with  me  ? 

The  King. 

Nay,  all  is  well 
With  thee,  my  son. 

The  Prince. 

Such  dizziness  I  feel  — 

The  King. 

Lean  here  a  moment  —  it  will  pass  away. 
We  will  go  talk  together  —  thou  and  I. 
Strange  dreams  of  death  and  life  came  to  my  sleep 
Last  night.     We  '11  talk  of  them,  and  for  an  hour 
Forget  that  we  are  kings  —  insatiate 
Breeders  of  nations,  conquerors  of  strife. 

The  Prince. 

Strange  counsel !     Thou  wouldst  have  me  for  an  hour 
Forget  my  destiny  !     Is  this  my  father  ? 

The  King. 

Come,  we  will  go  and  look  upon  the  sea  — 
The  sea  is  blue  to-day. 

The  Prince. 

What  was  thy  dream  ? 

[Exeunt  the  King  and  the  Prince.    Florimond  advances  unperceived.  ] 
144 


Florimond. 

He  knows  the  truth,  and  when  the  prince  is  dead, 
What  death  too  hideous  for  us?     Farewell, 
My  noble  patron  !     When  we  meet  again 
I  '11  greet  thee  like  a  Vancua,  and  claim 
A  reckoning  for  the  past.     Most  noble  lady, 

[Calling  softly  at  the  side-door.] 

Open  to  me,  for  I  have  news  indeed. 

[Valeria  opens  the  door  and  appears.] 

The  king  knows  all,  and  thou  must  flee  with  me 
From  his  revenge. 

Valeria. 

The  night  is  over  now. 
I  have  a  thing  or  two  to  say  to  thee, 
And  then  may  the  God  of  mercy  and  of  love 
Grant  I  may  never  see  thy  face  again 
In  this  world  or  the  next. 

Florimond. 

Valeria  ! 

Speak  not,  but  hear  me  !     He  has  told  him  all, 
And  through  his  wrathful  innocence  the  king 
Has  read  the  truth.     The  instant  of  his  death 
Will  be  our  doom. 

Valeria. 
So  be  it ! 
)4S 


Florimond. 

What  say'st  thou  ? 
Hast  thou  grown  mad  ? 

Valeria. 

No  —  no  !     Once  I  was  mad, 
But  one  fierce  moment  wrapped  my  soul  in  flame 
And  it  was  purged. 

Florimond. 

Dost  thou  not  understand 

'T  is  death  to  linger  here?     If  they  should  spare  thee 
Our  retribution  could  not,  for  to-night 
The  infuriate  mob  will  slip  the  tyrant's  leash  — 
This  hated  race  will  perish,  and  these  halls 
Will  be  chastised  with  fire.     To-morrow  morn 
Thou  shalt  awake  to  happiness  and  power 
If  thou  but  dash  these  vague  misgivings  down 
And  go  with  me. 

Valeria. 

There  is  no  happiness 

This  side  the  grave  for  me.     The  arms  of  power 
I  can  but  wield  awry.     Go  —  let  me  die — 
'T  is  only  in  my  shroud  I  shall  be  safe. 

Florimond. 

Sweet  lady,  there  are  many  million  years 
Beyond  this  day's  despair.     Full  well  I  know 

146 


That  from  the  tense  strain  of  a  mighty  deed 

The  soul  recoils  to  agonies  of  doubt. 

Thy  mind  has  leaped  the  centuries,  and  dared 

A  stroke  for  fate  and  immortality, 

And  now  black  clouds  envelop  thee.     Be  brave  — 

They  cannot  linger  long  ;  soon  thou  shalt  see 

Visions  of  glory  and  delight  once  more. 

Hast  thou  forgot  our  love  ? 

Valeria. 

Beware  of  me  ! 

1  have  been  patient  long,  but  when  thou  speak'st 
That  word,  I  long  to  blast  thee  with  a  breath. 
I  never  loved  thee,  and  with  all  my  soul 
1  do  despise  thee  now. 

Florimond. 

How  dar'st  thou  tell 
These  lies  to  me  ? 

Valeria. 

A  noble  patriot  — 
Who  prates  of  fate  and  immortality 
And  love  all  in  a  breath !     For  which  of  these 
Was  murder  done?     Was  it  for  liberty, 
God,  and  the  people  that  we  poisoned  him  ? 
So  said'st  thou,  and  the  spell  was  over  me, 
And  I  believed.     Or  was  it  for  revenge, 
The  satisfaction  of  our  secret  hate, 
147 


That  we  destroyed  this  hero  —  I,  his  wife, 
And  thou,  his  friend  ? 

Florimond. 

Art  thou  so  mean  a  thing  — 
A  poor,  weak  woman  after  all  ?     Alas  ! 
I  was  a  fool  to  trust  thee,  to  believe 
Thy  soul  roused  to  great  issues.     Yesternight 
I  found  thee  starved,  caged,  shrunken,  in  despair. 
1  showed  thee  all  the  world,  and  a  great  cause 
To  live  and  die  for,  and  methought  I  found 
A  man's  brain  wielded  by  a  woman's  zeal, 
A  child  of  liberty,  who  laid  her  head 
Upon  her  mother's  breast,  and  wept  for  joy 
That  she  could  serve  her.     Canst  thou  in  a  night 
Forswear  thine  ancestry,  and  fill  thy  veins 
With  tyrant's  blood  ? 

Valeria. 

God  !  is  it  but  a  night 

That  I  have  lived  since  then  ?     'T  was  long  enough 
For  the  wide  world  to  age  in,  long  enough 
To  learn  that  naught  in  all  the  universe 
Is  half  so  precious  as  a  stainless  soul. 

Florimond. 

Unsullied  was  thy  soul  until  this  hour. 
To  free  a  million  by  the  death  of  one  — 
148 


'T  is  to  be  pure  like  fire,  and  brave  like  steel. 

The  narrow  standards  of  the  past  will  bind 

Free  minds  no  more.     A  new  philosophy 

Widens  the  bounds  of  virtue,  tears  away 

The  lean  monk's  blinding  cowl,  and  dares  reveal 

The  beauty  and  the  glory  of  this  world 

Priests  have  so  long  defamed  and  kings  despoiled. 

The  sword  of  justice  must  reclaim  for  man 

His  stolen  heritage.     That  sword  was  thine. 

Thy  deed  might  be  the  halo  of  a  saint, 

So  holy  was  it.     Italy  is  cursed 

With  many  tyrants.    When  the  last  has  fallen, 

And  she  stands  free  beneath  her  glowing  skies, 

Such  strokes  will  shine  like  jewels  in  the  crown 

Of  her  redemption. 

Valeria. 

Let  me  prophesy  ! 

The  mantle  of  the  seer  becomes  thee  not. 
Not  thus  will  Italy  be  saved.     Her  vice 
Will  never  thus  redeem  her  from  her  shame. 
Though  murder  grow  as  trite  as  tyranny 
And  treachery  as  custom-stale  as  hate, 
Her  doom  will  speed  the  faster.     It  is  writ 
That  sin  brings  punishment,  and  years  of  woe 
Must  follow  years  of  wrath.     For  times  like  these 
Long  centuries  of  penance  shall  unroll 
Ere  Italy  be  worthy  to  be  free. 
i49 


Florimond. 
The  future  is  thy  kingdom,  prophetess. 

Valeria. 

Be  warned  then  — flee!     Man  cannot  baffle  God. 
Thy  hope  is  doomed  —  the  blight  of  greed  is  in  it. 
Though  ruin  sweep  a  road  wide  as  the  sea 
Thou  shalt  not  touch  the  goal  of  thy  desire. 

Florimond. 

By  all  the  saints !  you  have  communed  with  fate 
Since  last  I  saw  you. 

Valeria. 

'T  is  most  true,  indeed. 
My  life  has  known  despair  and  misery, 
And  blessed  hope  and  moments  of  high  joy, 
And  thirst,  and  longing,  and  the  love  of  truth; 
But  in  that  instant  when  my  husband  drained 
Our  cup  of  death,  it  knew  them  all  forever. 
The  past  rose  over  me  in  rolling  waves 
Of  mighty  memories.     I  saw  the  truth, 
And  took  her  hand  again,  and  all  was  clear. 
And  through  the  endless  watches  of  this  night 
1  sat  communing  with  her  face  to  face, 
While  he  whose  ill-starred  love  we  had  betrayed 
Slept  his  last  hours  away.     My  soul  is  armed 
150 


Against  thee  now.     The  spell  inscrutable 

That  made  my  mind  thy  slave  dissolves  in  light, 

And  I  am  free. 

Florimond. 

This  is  thy  gratitude  ! 

The  love  of  many  years,  the  zealous  service 
In  spite  of  bitter  perfidy,  the  long 
Devotion  to  a  dream,  the  dear  desire 
To  crown  one  thwarted  life  with  happiness; 
A  great  cause  risked,  and  death  defied — all  these 
Are  scorn  to  thee  ! 

Valeria. 

Speak'st  thou  of  gratitude  ? 
That  theme  is  not  at  home  upon  thy  lips. 
I  seem  to  hear  my  husband  say  those  words. 
He  gave  me  all  —  't  is  late  for  gratitude, 
Now  that  my  thankless  hand  has  stolen  all 
From  him  ;  yet  I  will  give  it,  and  be  true 
From  now  until  the  end. 

Florimond. 

He  has  not  changed. 
If  all  were  as  before,  if  he  could  live 
And  play  the  king  forever,  he  would  be 
Insufferable  still  to  thy  free  soul 
As  he  was  yesterday. 


Valeria. 

What  boots  it  now  ? 

Our  hands  and  destiny  have  brushed  away 
That  problem.  If  I  cannot  live  with  him, 
Then  I  will  die  with  him. 

Florimond. 

Insensate  thing  ! 
Know'st  thou  what  thou  invokest? 

Valeria. 

Death. 
Florimond. 

Ay,  death. 

But  not  the  soft  embrace  of  perfumed  peace, 
A  bower  of  poppies  where  the  soul  may  sink 
Into  eternal  rest,  where  holy  thoughts 
May  fan  away  all  stinging  memories, 
And  lull  the  baffled  spirit  into  dreams 
Of  infinite  fulfilment  —  not  to  thee 
Will  death  come  thus,  if  thou  demand  it  now. 
Disgrace,  a  public  doom  and  punishment, 
The  torture,  and  a  lingering  agony 
Men  pale  to  think  of,  madden  to  endure, 
Will  lead  thee  to  the  grave. 

Valeria. 

And  through  the  pain 
I  shall  behold  innumerable  years 
152 


Thronging  the  spaces  of  eternity, 

And  hear  the  song  of  rapture  from  afar. 

Florimond. 

Impalpable  creation  of  a  dream, 

What  wouldst  thou  do  ?  Think,  if  the  power  of  thought 
Lives  in  the  filmy  chambers  of  thy  brain. 
Behind,  disaster;  and  before  thee,  shame; 
And  dim  oblivion  beyond — a  world 
Unpeopled,  save  in  wild  imaginings 
Of  maddened  zealots,  unexplored  and  dire. 
Take  the  bright  cup  of  life,  full  to  the  brim, 
And  go  with  me. 

Valeria. 

The  voices  in  my  ear 

Are  sweeter  far  than  thine.     They  offer  me 
A  whole  eternity  of  joy  within 
Life's  little  minute  that  is  left  to  me. 
What  matters  immortality  ?     My  soul 
Feels  the  wide  winds,  lives  in  the  quenchless  light 
For  one  swift  hour.     Eternity  could  do 
No  more.     Whether  this  death  be  death  indeed, 
Or  but  the  portal  to  a  nobler  life, 
I  am  content  to  die. 

Florimond. 

These  vaporings  — 
Thou  baffling  demon  of  perversity  — 
These  shall  not  balk  me.     I  will  have  thee  yet  — 

[Trieste  seize  her.] 
153 


Valeria. 

Thou  shalt  not  touch  me  !     I  have  done  with  thee 
Forever ! 

Florimond. 

Wilt  thou  make  me  mad  as  thou  ? 
I  love  thee  —  dost  thou  hear  ?  Thou  murderous  woman, 
If  the  red  blood  upon  thy  hand  were  mine 
Still  would  I  love  thee. 

Valeria. 

Wilt  thou  prove  my  words 
Already  ? 

Florimond. 

Thou  wast  mine  —  my  twin  —  my  queen. 
Our  troth  was  registered  in  hell,  and  sealed 
In  blood.     Thou  canst  not  leave  me  in  the  lurch, 
And  die  with  fine  words  on  thy  lips. 

Valeria. 

And  this 
Is  the  deliverer  !     Speak  to  me  no  more  ! 

[The  marching  of  armed  men  is  heard  without] 

Florimond. 

Hear'st  thou  that  sound  ?    Now  shalt  thou  choose  in 
deed. 

'T  is  the  king's  guard,  coming  to  lead  us  hence 
To  his  tribunal.     Choose  —  their  arms  or  mine. 
154 


I  shall  escape  —  some  of  them  are  my  friends. 
Let  me  but  clasp  thee,  and  thou  too  art  safe. 
Life,  and  the  world  to  reign  in,  and  the  love 
Of  one  who  reads  the  secrets  of  thy  soul, 
Of  one  whose  heart  is  but  an  instrument 
Tuned  to  thy  finest  measures.     Come  to  me  — 
The  old  Valeria  I  knew  of  yore. 

Valeria. 

I  know  thee  not.     My  soul  is  winged  for  God, 
And  has  forgotten  thee  forevermore. 

[Enter  the  King's  Guards.] 

Captain. 
In  the  king's  name  I  do  arrest  ye  both. 

Valeria. 
God  bless  you  for  it ! 

Florimond. 

Woman,  thou  hast  been 
Destructive  as  a  pest,  false  as  a  lure. 

Valeria. 
There  is  no  sin  that  cannot  be  redeemed. 

[Florimond  feigns  a  few  desperate  sword-thrusts,  and  escapes. 
Valeria  yields  herself,  and  is  borne  away.] 

[Curtain.] 

155 


ACT  V 

SCENE.— Same  as  Act  II.  Enter  the  Captain  of  the  Guards  with 
nearly  half  the  guardsmen,  and  a  few  courtiers,  including 
Filippo. 

Captain. 

Great  deeds  are  on  the  wing.     We  must  prepare. 
The  long  night  gladdens  to  the  dawn,  and  now 
Day's  harbingers  awake  and  sing.     My  friends, 
The  prince  is  dying. 

Filippo. 

Thus  the  enemies 
Of  liberty  must  perish  ! 

[Some   make   signs   of  joy;    some  receive  the   news  with   awe- 
stricken  silence.] 


Captain. 

Not  a  man 

Shall  fail  in  duty.     Each  depends  on  all, 
And  all  on  each.     Will  you  be  faithful,  friends  ? 
And  is  all  ready  for  the  sacred  hour? 


Guardsmen. 
We  swear  it  ! 

Others. 
Put  us  to  the  proof ! 

Captain. 

[To  Filippo,  whom  he  gradually  draws  away.] 

My  lord, 

Go  to  the  count.     Bid  him  not  wait  an  hour. 
The  king  has  sent  us  here  to  the  hall  of  justice, 
And  bade  us  open  wide  the  doors.     Bid  him 
Send  in  his  people  with  the  rabble.     Say 
The  princess  lies  in  chains  since  his  escape; 
The  king  has  heard  — I  know  not  what— but  't  is 
Some  echo  of  the  truth.     It  is  not  safe 
To  wait  until  to-night  — to  give  him  time 
To  arm,  and  guard,  and  save  himself,  and  balk 
Our  dear  revenge.     Now  that  the  prince  is  dead 
We  need  fear  nothing. 

Filippo. 

Dying,  but  not  dead. 
'T  was  neatly  done,  but  't  is  not  finished  yet. 

Captain. 
I  saw  him  lying  breathless 

Filippo. 

Yes,  I  know, 
But  't  is  a  tricky  poison  —  Vancua 

160 


Ought  to  have  used  a  speedier.     And  his  ruse 
Did  not  deceive  the  king,  who  knows  too  well 
The  scope  of  all  the  poisons. 

Captain. 

Yet  it  kills— 

Filippo. 

Oh,  surely.     But  he  may  survive  this  spasm  ; 
The  first  is  seldom  fatal. 

Captain. 

T  is  the  seconds 

Filippo. 

Indeed !     He  is  well-nigh  safe  then.     Yet  I  know 
My  father  had  a  cousin  lived  through  two 
And  died  not  till  the  third. 

Captain. 

What  difference  ? 

He  cannot  harm  us  now.     Go  to  the  count 

Tell  him  how  all  things  stand,  and  bid  him  haste. 
We  will  await  his  bugle. 

Filippo. 

I  am  gone. 
When  next  we  meet  — 

Captain. 

No  throne  will  shadow  us. 

[Exit  Filippo.     The  Captain  goes  to  the  door  and  blows  three 
short  blasts  on  his  bugle.] 
161 


Go  you,  Bernardo,  bid  them  ring  the  bell 
That  calls  the  people  hither.     You,  my  friends, 

[Addressing  six  of  the  guardsmen.] 

My  six  stanch  brothers,  open  with  this  key 

The  great  bronze  doors,  and  guard  them.   Do  not  fear. 

Watch  for  my  signal ;  be  alert  and  swift. 

You  that  remain,  stand  by  the  throne  with  me. 

[Enter  the  rest  of  the  Guard,  one  by  one.     They  form.  ] 

Take  the  side  passage,  men.     You,  range  yourselves 
Along  this  wall.     Now  all  is  done,  I  think, 
And  the  king's  orders  are  obeyed.     To  arms  ! 

[Enter,  in  the  people's  division  of  the  hall,  certain  citizens.  Gradu 
ally  others  come  in  until,  by  the  time  the  King  enters,  a  dense 
throng  has  assembled.] 

First  Citizen. 
What  are  we  summoned  for  ? 


Second  Citizen. 

Some  war,  perhaps. 

Some  new  town  must  be  taken,  and  our  trades 
Must  pay  the  price. 

First  Citizen. 

Still  growling  ?     If  the  king 
Could  grasp  all  Italy,  you  'd  mumble  out 
That  't  was  not  worth  the  handling. 
162 


Second  Citizen. 

Well— I  say 

Home  's  good  enough  for  me.     1  '11  shake  no  hands 
Except  my  friends',  and  share  no  government 
With  smooth-tongued  southerners. 

First  Citizen. 

Have  you  no  eyes  ? 

Who  reaps  the  profit  of  our  greatness  ?  We. 
Would  you  have  been  as  rich  in  little  Locca  ? 
Say  —  tell  me  that  ? 

Second  Citizen. 

Would  I  have  been  as  rich  ? 
I  am  the  foremost  blacksmith  in  the  city. 
What  has  the  government  to  do  with  that  ? 

First  Citizen. 
You  are  a  fool  ! 

Second  Citizen. 
Nay  —  I  am  not  a  fool  — 

Third  Citizen. 

Have  you  heard  the  news  ?     The  Count  Leone  's  mur 
dered, 
And  this  is  for  the  trial. 

163 


Second  Citizen. 

Leone  murdered  ? 
Then  we  shall  have  no  wedding  pageant. 

Third  Citizen. 

True  — 

But  there  will  be  a  splendid  funeral, 
And  funerals  are  grander. 

First  Citizen. 

Who  is  guilty? 

Third  Citizen. 
How  should  I  know?     The  king  will  answer  that. 

Second  Citizen. 

See  —  let  us  take  those  places  by  the  pillar. 
Come  — they  '11  be  taken.     We  can  see  all  there. 

[They  pass  on,  and  continue  talking  among  themselves  and  to  others 
as  they  come  in.  ] 

Fourth  Citizen. 

Too  long  have  we  been  governed  by  a  king  — 
We  '11  teach  him  that. 

Fifth  Citizen. 

Ay  —  Vancua  was  right. 

He  has  spilled  our  blood,  and  drained  our  treasuries. 
He  shall  die  for  't. 

164 


Fourth  Citizen. 

This  earth  shall  soak  his  blood 
That  he  has  trod  as  king. 

Sixth  Citizen. 

Ay —  king,  forsooth  ! 

Here  where  our  sires  were  free.     This  upstart  king, 
And  the  great  house  of  Vancua  'neath  his  heel  ! 

Fifth  Citizen. 
He  shall  die  for  't — he  and  his  murderous  son. 

Seventh  Citizen. 

'T  is  strange  about  Leone's  death.     I  thought 
That  prince  too  brave  to  play  the  assassin. 

Sixth  Citizen. 

Yet 

No  sooner  had  his  friend  offended  him 
In  some  slight  quarrel  —  so  said  Vancua  — 
He  whips  me  out  his  sword  and  runs  him  through, 
And  lies  down  to  as  sweet  a  night  of  slumber 
As  if  his  prey  had  been  an  oyster. 

Fifth  Citizen. 

T  is 

A  tyrant,  like  his  sire;  born  to  it,  bred  to  it. 
We  '11  make  an  end  to  all  of  them. 

165 


Seventh  Citizen. 

Be  still. 
The  silken  gossips  of  their  court  approach. 

[Enter,  gravely  and  silently,  several  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  the 
court,  all  wearing  mourning  badges.  Lastly,  Liperata,  Tora, 
and  Piera,  clad  in  black.  They  station  themselves  near  the 
throne.  During  the  following  scene,  while  these  converse  to 
gether  in  the  front  of  the  stage,  people  of  all  classes  gradually  fill 
the  hall.] 

Third  Citizen. 

Look  at  the  bride,  poor  thing — that  was  to  be. 
Troth  !  she  is  pale. 

Second  Citizen. 

But  not  a  tear  in  the  eye  ! 
Faith  —  she  should  wring  her  hands,  and  weep,  and 

wail, 
And  cry  for  vengeance.     Zounds!   she  is  a  stone. 

First  Citizen. 
Lord  !  would  you  measure  sorrow  by  the  gallon  ? 

Third  Citizen. 

Look  !  the  king's  sister  and  his  niece,  in  black. 
Can  this  be  for  the  count  ? 

Second  Citizen. 

And  why  not,  pray  ? 
They  loved  him  well. 

166 


First  Citizen. 
'T  is  strange. 

Tor  a. 

O  mother,  mother ! 

Dost  thou  remember  when  he  came  from  the  war 
And  we  stood  here,  as  now  ? 

Liperata. 

Yes,  child. 

Tor  a. 

This  day 

Is  terrible,  but  not  so  sad  as  that. 
He  is  but  dead  —  my  prayers  can  speed  his  spirit. 
But  to  be  still  while  he  gave  up  his  soul 
Unto  unworthiness  —  ah  !  that  was  pain  ! 

Liperata. 

He  died  untainted,  dear.     Think  not  he  loved  her. 
He  loved  a  dream  and  set  her  face  within  it, 
Even  as  some  heathen  might  enshrine  in  gold 
A  monstrous  image,  hallowing  it  with  prayers. 
God  takes  the  worship  that  is  meant  for  him, 
Though  ignorantly  offered. 

Tor  a. 

Dost  thou  think 

The  earthly  contact  of  his  soul  with  hers 
Must  last  forever  ? 

167 


Liperata. 

Is  the  heathen  saint 
Chained  to  his  idol  through  eternity  ? 
Nay,  God  is  just.     Their  souls  have  never  touched. 

Tor  a. 

Ay,  all  will  yet  be  well.     This  earth  shall  feel 
The  hand  of  God  to-day.     Look  up,  Piera ; 
God  will  avenge  our  woe. 

Piera. 

Think  not  of  me. 

I  try  no  more  to  solve  God's  problems  for  him  — 
They  are  too  hard.     I  do  not  understand 
The  forces  which  have  wrecked  us.      They  must  come 
From  the  black  voids  of  space — they  are  so  strange, 
So  strange  and  terrible.     Shall  I  mock  with  tears 
The  whirlwind's  anger?     Shall  I  cry  aloud 
When  all  the  thunders  of  a  thousand  years 
Are  echoing  through  the  caverns  of  my  soul  ? 

Tor  a. 
Ay,  all  the  more  ;  till  God  shall  hear  thy  voice. 

Piera. 

Nay,  nay  ;   I  am  a  watcher  on  the  shore 
Of  some  dead  world.     There  was  a  shock,  a  crash  ; 
The  elements  grew  bolder  than  their  wont, 
The  green  earth  reddened,  and  the  stars  shot  fire, 
And  all  was  done.     I  am  too  slight  a  thing 

168 


To  move  a  dog  to  soothe  my  loneliness. 
I  ask  nothing  of  God,  save  to  go  pray. 

Liperata. 
What  puts  thee  in  this  strange  mood,  child? 

Pier  a. 

Alas! 

When  my  love  died  I  mourned.     But  now  I  see 
Whole  kingdoms  are  adrift  ;  and  what  am  1 
That  I  should  hug  a  private  grief,  invoke 
A  special  vengeance  !     Nay,  if  God  be  just, 
Leave  it  to  him  ! 

Tor  a. 

Yet  even  on  earth,  at  times, 
His  sword  strikes  home.     Is  not  Valeria 
In  chains  ?     This  day  our  woe  shall  be  avenged. 

Pier  a. 

Blood  —  ever  blood  !     T  is  man's  revenge,  and  not 
God's  justice. 

Tor  a. 
Dost  thou  hear  ? 

[The  strains  of  a  monks'  chant  are  heard  in  the  distance,  gradually 
growing  louder,  and  then  fading  away  to  silence.] 

Holy  mother,  maid  divine, 

Thus  we  bear  him  to  thy  shrine  — 

Pray  for  him  ! 

169 


In  the  earth  his  clay  shall  rest  ; 
Lift  his  spirit  to  thy  breast. 

Pray  for  him  ! 

Not  through  purgatorial  flame 

Let  him  supplicate  thy  name  — 

Pray  for  him ! 

Martyr-winged,  his  soul  doth  rise 
To  thy  throne  in  paradise. 

Pray  for  him  ! 

Tor  a. 

O  God !  O  God ! 
Liperata. 

The  prince  goes  to  the  chapel.     Be  at  peace. 
This  journey  does  not  weary  him,  my  child. 

Pier  a. 

Why  dost  thou  tarry  here  ?  The  convent  walls 
Will  hush  all  deadly  noise,  and  Christ  thy  Lord 
Has  called  thee.  Wilt  thou  go  ? 

Tor  a. 

When  all  is  done. 

Piera. 

I  will  go  with  thee.     Not  the  nun's  deep  veil, 
The  funeral  pall,  the  vows  that  bury  life, 
Shall  hide  my  love  from  thine.     We  will  go  pray  — 
The  poor  world  needs  it.     We  will  think  away 
The  wilful  years,  and  pray  for  all  the  world 
Until  we  die. 

170 


Tora. 
May  death  come  soon,  my  sister ! 

Pier  a. 

Not  sooner  than  the  light.     I  would  not  grope 
Through  all  eternity.     Nay,  give  God  time 
To  teach  us. 


[Enter  the  King,  in  full  royal  robes,  crowned  and  sceptered.  As  he 
advances  and  seats  himself  upon  the  throne,  a  wave  of  murmur 
ing  passes  over  the  people.  ] 


Fourth  Citizen. 
See  —  the  king's  alone! 

Voices.    [Softly.] 

The  prince  ! 

Third  Citizen. 
Where  is  the  prince? 

Second  Citizen. 

The  pretty  princess,  too  ? 

Others. 
The  prince  ! 

First  Citizen. 
Nay  —  it  is  strange. 

Seventh  Citizen. 

What  fools  are  these, 
To  lick  the  heels  that  crush  them  ! 
171 


Fourth  Citizen. 

But  the  prince! 
Where  is  he  ? 

Fifth  Citizen. 
Where  he  should  be.     Trust  the  count. 

The  King. 

My  people!     Ye  have  heard  me  many  times  — 
Now  for  the  last  time  hear !     I  have  grown  old 
In  serving  you.     The  crown  you  gave  to  me 
I  have  enriched  with  principalities, 
The  scepter  1  have  girded  round  with  laws  — 
Now  are  they  yours  again.     I  loved  my  country. 
I  thought  to  make  her  orderly  and  strong, 
To  gather  'neath  her  shield  all  Italy 
Against  the  foreign  foe.     But  sinuous  fate 
Has  baffled  me ;  the  evil  of  the  times 
Unwinds  its  coils,  and  lo!  God's  instrument 
Lies  dead.     My  people,  I  can  work  no  more. 
Prince  Andrea,  whom  ye  loved,  who  dipped  your  flag 
In  shining  victory,  who  would  have  borne  it 
Far  to  the  heights  where  glory  sits  enthroned 
Above  time's  siege,  who  loved  you  with  a  love 
More  strong  than  death,  who  would  have  made  you 

free 

Beyond  the  hope  of  those  who  dare  betroth 
Blasphemous  impotence  with  liberty, 
Who  would  have  made  you  great  beyond  their  power  — 
Prince  Andrea  is  murdered. 
172 


Many  Voices.    [Softly.] 
Murdered ! 

Others. 

Listen  ! 
The  prince  is  dead. 

The  King. 

He  gave  you  cities,  gold, 
A  great  hope,  a  great  destiny :  and  you  — 
You  give  him  death  ! 

Many  Voices. 
Not  we  ! 

Others. 

No,  no  —  not  we! 

Show  us  the  murderer  ! 

Seventh  Citizen. 

What  does  this  mean  ? 
Is  it  the  count's  work  ? 

Fifth  Citizen. 

By  Saint  Michael's  sword!  — 
He  should  have  told  us  this. 

Fourth  Citizen. 

He  trusts  us  not. 

Seventh  Citizen. 

Nay,  doubt  him  not.     Wait — wait! 
173 


First  Citizen  and  Others. 

Who  killed  him! 

Voices. 

Oh, 


Our  warrior  ! 


The  King. 

My  people,  are  ye  true? 
And  do  they  slander  you  who  dare  assert 
You  were  false  traitors  to  his  love  ? 

First  Citizen. 

Who  dares? 
Tell  us  who  says  it  ? 

Sixth  Citizen.     [Aside  to  his  faction.] 

Where  is  Vancua? 

Seventh  Citizen. 
'T  is  going  strangely. 

Fifth  Citizen. 

Faith,  he  sleeps! 

Sixth  Citizen. 

Alas! 

These  golden  sands  of  time  are  slipping  fast  — 
What  shall  we  do  ? 

Voices. 
Give  us  the  villain  ! 


First  Citizen  and  Others. 

Justice  ! 
The  assassin  ! 

The  King. 

Friends,  I  must  believe  you  true. 
My  soul  shall  trust  you,  for  the  power  ye  gave  me 
Is  yours  again,  your  glory  or  your  shame 
Through  coming  years.     I  love  my  country  still, 
And  now  that  I  can  guide  her  course  no  more  — 

Voices. 
No  !  No ! 

Others. 
The  king  ! 

Many  Voices.    [Shouting.] 
The  king  ! 

Seventh  Citizen.   [To  some  of  his  faction.] 

Ye  cowards  !  knaves  ! 
What !  are  you  cheering  him  ? 

Fifth  Citizen. 

What  can  we  do  ? 

The  Multitude.     [Cheering.] 
Long  live  the  king  ! 

The  King. 

It  cannot  be,  my  people. 
My  scepter  now  must  be  the  pilgrim's  staff, 
175 


My  robe  his  cowl.     In  far  Jerusalem 

My  prayers  shall  plead  for  you.     But  ere  1  go, 

Before  I  dare  resign  my  stewardship, 

One  duty  lies  before  me,  unto  you 

One  service  I  can  render.     Oh,  my  people, 

Will  you  have  justice?     Shall  this  noisome  crime, 

That  darkens  o'er  us  like  a  pestilence, 

Rise  festering  to  God? 

First  Citizen. 

The  murderer ! 

Many  Voices. 
Give  us  the  murderer ! 

Others. 
Tear  him  limb  from  limb  ! 

The  King. 
Be  patient  —  ah,  you  shall  have  need  of  patience. 

[To  the  Guard.] 

Bring  in  the  woman,  and  protect  her  well. 

[Exit  Captain  with  six  men.] 

Be  still,  be  patient.     Let  this  cause  be  tried 

All  orderly,  that  justice  may  not  frown 

Upon  our  offering.     Be  nearer  gods 

Than  men,  my  people ;  for  your  souls  must  bear 

A  tale  of  treachery  and  ingratitude 

Unmatched  among  the  devil's  miracles, 

And  not  go  mad. 

176 


Tora. 
Ah,  mother,  she  is  coming. 

Liperata. 
Hush  !  she  is  come. 

[Re-enter  the  Guard  with  Valeria  in  chains.] 
Many    Voices,.     [Murmuring.] 

The  princess  ! 

First  Citizen. 

This  is  false  ! 

Second  Citizen. 
How  do  you  know? 

First  Citizen. 

She  kill  her  husband  ?     Look  ! 
T  is  false,  1  say. 

Pier  a. 

Ah,  Tora,  sister  mine, 

There  's  more  in  this  than  we  can  understand. 
See  —  is  she  not  a  seraph  straight  from  God, 
Standing  with  folded  wings  ? 

Tora. 

It  is  hell's  way  — 
To  counterfeit  heaven's  splendor  with  its  flame. 

Pier  a. 

Beware  !  beware  !    Thou  know'st  not  heaven  and  hell. 
177 


The  King. 

Valeria,  widow  of  Andrea,  prince, 
Co-ruler  of  this  realm,  and  heir  of  all 
Its  principalities,  stand  forth,  and  hear. 

[Valeria  steps  forward  a  pace  or  two,  free  of  the  Guards.] 

I  summon  thee  to  answer  for  the  death 
Of  Andrea,  thy  husband  ;  warranted 
By  his  confession,  made  in  ignorance, 
But  clear  unto  the  wise.     Base-born  wast  thou ; 
His  name  redeemed  that  stain.     Thy  lot  was  mean  ; 
He  raised  thee  to  a  throne.     Thou  wast  a  beggar ; 
He  gave  thee  splendor.     A  wandering  outcast,  thou  ; 
He  made  thy  home  a  palace,  and  thy  vassals 
The  noblest  in  the  land.     Thou  wast  despised, 
The  sport  of  men,  fore-doomed  to  be  their  slave  ; 
And  he  whose  heart  was  stainless  as  the  morn 
Gave  thee  his  love. 

First  Citizen. 

Her  soul  weeps  tears  of  blood  - 
What  does  this  mean  ? 

The  King. 

And  for  these  gracious  gifts, 

Thou,  three  months  from  the  altar  where  thy  vows 
Were  registered  for  God,  thou  didst  conspire 
His  ruin.     Thou  didst  play  upon  his  trust, 
Until  in  thy  defense,  to  vindicate 
Thy  honor, —  dear  to  him  though  cheap  to  thee,— 
178 


He  killed  the  friend  whose  truth  had  dared  to  assail  it, 
And  drank  thy  poison  like  ambrosial  wine, 
Sure  of  its  purity  as  though  he  had  seen 
The  angels  brew  it  for  the  lips  of  Christ. 

Voices.     [Softly.] 
Oh,  horrible!  is  it  true? 

The  King. 

Thou  hear'st  the  charge. 
If  thou  canst  meet  it,  or  if  thou  dost  ask 
Another  voice  to  plead  thy  cause  for  thee, 
Speak,  and  avoid  thy  doom. 

Valeria. 

I  do  confess 

The  truth  of  these  thy  charges,  and  1  ask 
The  sentence  of  the  law. 

Yoices. 
Death  ! 

Many   Voices.     [In  great  cries.] 

Death ! 

[The  Guards  draw  near  to  protect  her.] 

Tor  a. 
Hear'st  thou? 

Piera. 

She  is  calm  still.     What  do  we  know  — 
We  mortals  ! 

179 


The  King, 

Ye  have  heard.     Unhappy  woman, 
Thou  dost  avow  thy  guilt.     For  crimes  like  thine 
The  law  gives  death  prolonged  with  agony, 
And  thou  hast  heard  the  people  ratify 
The  law's  decree.     Yea,  on  thy  perjured  soul 
God  shall  pass  sentence  ;  ere  this  day  is  old 
Thou  diest.     Yet  because  thou  wast  the  wife 
Of  Andrea,  and  a  princess,  death  shall  come 
With  deference,  as  though  the  blood  of  kings 
Flowed  in  thy  veins.     Woman,  prepare  thy  soul. 
Choose  thou  the  means  of  death. 

Valeria. 

The  means  of  death! 

Captain  of  the  Guard.    [Aside  to  Valeria.] 

Gain  time  !     The  count  — 

Valeria. 

Nay,  thus  then  ! 

[She  draws  a  small  dagger  from  her  girdle,  and  plunges  it  into  her 
breast.  ] 

Oh,  my  soul  — 
How  light  it  is  ! 

The  King. 

Will  such  a  narrow  door 
Suffice  for  death  to  enter  ? 

180 


Valeria.     [Dreamily.] 

Do  not  fear. 

Ah,  sire,  there  is  an  angel  at  the  point  — 
Death's  herald.  [To  the  Guard.]  Do  not  touch  me  !   I  can 

die 
Untended.     Look,  dear,  it  is  almost  done  ! 

The  King. 
Give  me  the  dagger. 

[The  Captain  picks  it  up  from  the  floor,  and  hands  it  to  the  King, 
who  shows  it  to  the  people.  ] 

'T  is  envenomed  black. 
She  dies  within  the  hour. 

[To  the  Captain.]     Bring  hither  now 
Your  other  prisoner. 

Captain. 
Sire,  he  escaped  us. 

The  King. 
Escaped  you,  say  you  ?     One  against  you  all  ? 

Captain. 
He  fled  away.    Not  all  the  winds  could  reach  him. 

The  King. 

It  is  a  lie,  and  you  who  utter  it  — 
You  are  a  traitor. 

[For  some  time  faint  cries  and  vague  sounds  of  an  approaching  crowd 
have  been  heard  without.  Now  they  grow  more  distinct,  and  the 
gathering  uproar  is  plainly  audible.  ] 

181 


Captain. 

Traitor  to  a  tyrant  — 
Lover  of  liberty  !     Friends  of  Vancua, 
Rise —  to  your  work  ! 

[He  darts  toward  the  King  with  uplifted  sword;  but  Valeria,  swift 
as  thought,  throws  herself  in  front  of  the  King,  and  baffles  the 
attack.] 

Valeria. 
Save  the  king ! 

[There  is  great  confusion  through  the  hall.  The  Captain  is  seized 
and  pinioned  by  several  courtiers.  The  noise  and  the  cries  without 
grow  louder  and  louder.] 

Ah,  sire, 

Your  throne  is  doomed.     Ten  thousand  foes  unfurl 
The  flag  of  liberty.     Beware !  beware  ! 
Arm  yourself!     Save  yourself!     Oh,  I  forgot 
Your  danger  in  my  ecstasy.     The  count  — 
Ah,  listen  !  he  and  ruin  are  without — 
What  will  you  do  ? 

Voices.     [Shouting  without.] 

A  Vancua  !  Vancua  ! 
Down  with  the  tyrant !     Kill  the  king  ! 

Seventh  Citizen. 

Awake  ! 
For  Vancua —  liberty  ! 

[Some  of  Florimond's  faction  try  to  force  their  way  to  the  door,  where 
those  without  are  struggling  to  enter.  The  others  contend 
against  them.] 

182 


First  Citizen. 

Protect  the  king  ! 

Matty  Voices. 
The  king  ! 

The  King. 

Listen,  my  people  !  he  is  there  — 
Tempter  and  traitor  !     He  has  fled  my  justice  — 
To  yours  I  now  commend  him.     Punish  him  — 
This  Count  of  Vancua  who  betrayed  his  friend  ! 
Kill  him  who  killed  his  master !     Spare  him  not, 
Who  did  not  spare  this  miserable  woman, 
But  lured  her  on  to  crime.     Oh,  silence  him, 
Who  dares  profane  the  name  of  liberty 
And  shroud  the  state  in  ruin.     Be  avenged 
For  every  lie  upon  his  perjured  soul. 
Do  this  for  justice,  and  my  last  farewell 
Shall  be  a  blessing. 

Voices,.      [Shouting  without.] 

Vancua ! 

Many  Voices.     [Within.] 

The  king  ! 

[The  throng  beyond  the  entrance  surges  in,  driving  the  others  back 
toward  the  throne.  Florimond,  armed,  appears  at  the  topmost 
step  in  the  wide  door- way,  sword  in  air,  with  armed  troops  behind 
him,  flanked  by  the  mob.  The  two  crowds  struggle  furiously  to 
gether,  pushing  and  surging  with  cries  and  blows.] 

Many  Voices.    [From  the  King's  crowd.] 

The  traitor ! 

183 


Others. 
Kill  the  traitor  ! 

Shouts .      [ From  the  Vancua  faction.  ] 

Death  to  the  tyrant ! 

Florimond. 
On,  on,  friends  !     Liberty  !     The  day  is  ours  ! 

[The  First  Citizen  has  made  his  way  to  the  door.  He  now  suddenly 
wrenches  Florimond's  sword  from  his  uplifted  hand,  and  plunges 
it  under  his  arm,  above  the  protecting  armor.  ] 

First  Citizen. 

This  —  for  the  women  you  have  ruined  !  this  — 
For  justice  and  the  state  ! 

Florimond. 

Valeria  ! 
Oh,  hear  me  !  —  Is  this  all  ? 

[Florimond  falls  dead.  Valeria,  lying  half  unconscious  on  the  steps 
of  the  throne,  neither  hears  nor  sees.  The  Count's  friends  tenderly 
protect  his  body  and  bear  it  out;  and  his  assailant  slips  back, 
uninjured,  in  the  mel6e.  Fierce  shouts  arise  from  Florimond's 
followers,  as  they  surge  forward  into  the  hall.  ] 

Many  Voices.       [From  the  Vancua  faction.] 

Revenge  ! 
Filippo. 

[From  the  topmost  step,  shouting  to  the  throng  without.] 

See— see  — 
He  is  dead,  our  hero  !     Kill  this  tyrant  —  kill  ! 

The  King. 

Thank  God  !    Now  all  is  over. 
184 


Many  Voices.    [Without  and  within.] 

Kill  the  king! 
Down  with  the  king  !  the  king  ! 

[The  King  steps  down  from  his  throne,  and  marches  into  the  midst  of 
the  people.  At  the  same  time  Cardinal  Ortus  appears  at  the 
door.] 

The  King. 

Come — kill  me,  then. 
Do  1  love  life,  now  hate  has  poisoned  it  ? 
Oh,  kill  me  !     If  you  have  forgot  my  laws, 
The  cities  I  have  given  you,  and  the  glory  — 
Then  kill  me.     I  am  old,  and  death  shall  be 
Dear  as  a  brother  come  to  call  me  home. 
I  pray  you,  kill  me  ! 

[Silence  and  a  pause.] 

Oh,  my  countrymen, 

Long  have  I  loved  you  —  ever  your  desire 
Has  been  my  goal.     Will  you  have  liberty? 
'T  is  yours.     The  throne  is  yours.     And  may  your  star, 
Kindled  in  justice,  glorified  in  power, 
Pale  not,  till  freedom's  morn  shall  waken  earth 
To  universal  gladness.     I  have  done. 
Cardinal,  though  among  mine  enemies 
Thou  stand'st,  to  thee  do  I  confide  my  people. 
To  thee,  the  anointed  son  of  holy  church, 
I  yield  my  crown  for  them. 

[The  Cardinal  approaches,  and  receives  the  articles  from  the 
King's  hands.] 

185 


To  thee  my  scepter, 

The  symbol  of  the  law;  my  robe  as  well. 
Long  may  the  state  be  clad  in  majesty, 
And  throned  in  strength. 

[He  stands  forth  in  a  pilgrim's  robe  of  sackcloth,  girded  with  rope.] 

And  from  thy  hands  I  ask 
The  benediction  Rome  cannot  refuse 
Unto  the  meanest  of  the  sons  of  Christ 
Who  seek  his  sepulcher. 

[He  kneels  to  the  Cardinal.] 

Cardinal. 

May  God  forgive 

Thy  crimes,  usurping  king  !     May  Christ's  dear  blood 
Efface  the  blood  of  murdered  countrymen 
From  thy  stained  record  !     May  thy  pilgrimage 
Gain  pardon  for  this  latest  trick  of  all, 
By  which  thou  cheatest  justice  of  the  head 
Which  is  her  due  ! 

The  King. 

Nay,  do  not  touch  him,  friends  — 
The  foolish,  impotent,  and  blind  old  man. 
Cardinal,  these  are  wiser  far  than  thou  ; 
They  feel  the  deeper  purpose  of  my  labor, 
Which  wrath  has  hid  from  thee.     The  blood  I  shed 
Was  consecrated  to  a  deathless  hope, 
That  shall  survive  the  ruin  thou  invokest 

186 


And  meet  fulfilment  in  the  deeps  of  time, 
Whither  I  send  my  fame. 

Cardinal. 

What  impudence  ! 
Thy  fame  is  infamy,  thy  hope  dishonor. 

First  Citizen. 
Down  with  him  ! 

Many  Voices. 
Silence  him  ! 

The  King. 

Nay,  spare  him,  friends. 

Wilt  thou  seek  Vancua  ?     Thy  life,  my  lord, 
Lies  at  my  mercy.     One  command  from  me, 
Thou  diest.     If  I  fail  to  utter  it 
And  crush  this  stinging  serpent  of  revenge, 
'T  is  not  in  deference  to  thee,  but  God, 
Whose  pitiless  courier,  death,  has  brought  me  word 
The  time  is  not  yet  ripe  for  my  desire, 
And  bade  me  pause.     And  now,  since  naught  requires 
The  sacrifice  of  blood,  let  us  protect 
These  myriad  lives. 

Go  with  him  hence,  my  people  — 
Not  so  —  my  brothers,  fellow-citizens  ! 
Go  to  the  Park  of  Peace,  and  there  decree 
Your  government,  and  leave  a  sad  old  man 
Herewith  his  dead. 

187 


First  Citizen. 
Ah,  sire  ! 

Agnolo. 

Our  hearts  are  yours — 
Lead  us  against  them  ! 

Cardinal. 

Can  I  trust  thee  living  ? 

The  King. 
Fool  !  fool ! 

Liperata.      [Advancing  toward  the  Cardinal.] 

Come — will  you  not  obey  him,  friends! 
Ye,  whom  he  served  so  long,  will  you  not  grant 
His  last  request  ?     Away  !  for  ye  are  free  ! 

[To  the  Cardinal.] 

I  charge  thee,  by  the  past  that  we  have  shared, 
Yield  this  revenge,  and  lead  these  angry  hosts 
To  peace. 

Cardinal. 
What— thou? 

Filippo.    [Without.] 

Nay,  on!  Though  he  is  dead 

The  cause  can  never  die.     Will  you  forsake  him  ? 
Impotent  race  !  incapable  alike 
Of  slavery  or  freedom  ! 

Liperata.      [To  the  Cardinal.] 

Dost  thou  hear  ? 

188 


The  King. 

Go,  go,  friends  !     Save  the  weary  state  from  blood. 
I  thank  you  all. 

Many  Voices. 
The  king  ! 

[The  people  cling  around  him,  kneeling  and  kissing  his  garments.] 
Liperata.     [To  the  Cardinal.  ] 

Oh,  be  a  man  — 
A  leader  ! 

[The  door  leading  toward  the  chapel  rolls  open,  and  on  its  threshold 
stands  the  Prince,  pale  as  marble,  and  clad  in  flowing  robes  of 
white.  The  people  nearest  him  start  back  in  terror,  and  in  a  mo 
ment  fear  takes  possession  of  the  multitude.] 

First  Citizen. 
Look  —  the  dead  ! 

Many   Voices.       [In  stifled  cries.] 

The  dead  !     Away  ! 
Away  ! 

The  Prince.     [Raising  his  arms.] 

Noise  !  noise  !     Shall  I  not  sleep  in  peace  ? 
Away  ! 

[The  crowd,  in  panic  terror,  surges  madly  over  the  steps  at  the  en 
trance,  bearing  away  with  them  the  Cardinal  and  Liperata,  and 
driving  before  them  the  throng  outside.  Wild  cries  and  groans 
are  heard.  The  Prince  glides  forward  a  few  paces.  ] 

Voices. 

Good  God  —  he  comes  !     God  save  us  !     It  is  death  ! 
Away  !  away  ! 

189 


Agnolo. 
Is  he  not  dead,  sire  ? 

The  King. 

Nay, 

I  know  not.     Go,  do  what  a  wise  man  can 
For  those  thy  fellow-countrymen  —  so  lost 
Without  a  leader !     Leave  me,  all  of  you, 
Oh,  leave  me  with  the  dying  ! 

[Agnolo  kisses  the  King's  hand,  and  rising,  unsheathes  his  sword.] 

sfgnolo. 

Come  with  me  ! 
The  state  is  ours  to  save  !     Away  —  away  ! 

The  King. 

So  rolls  the  world;  not  all  man's  flaming  hope 
Can  light  one  morn  on  earth  before  its  time. 

[The  crowd  has  gone,  and  the  courtiers.  None  are  left  but  the  King, 
the  Prince,  Tora,  Piera,  and  Valeria,  who  still  lies  along  the 
steps  of  the  throne.] 

The  Prince. 

I  dreamed  I  wandered  to  another  world, 
And  found  my  love  there.     Father,  am  I  dead  ? 
Is  this  the  king? 

The  King. 

God  keep  the  world,  my  son  ! 
'T  is  ours  no  more. 

190 


The  Prince. 

How  strange  !  My  God  !  what  is  it 
That  lies  here  like  a  pall  ?     Tora,  what  is  it 
That  wraps  you  thus  ?  Oh,  God  in  heaven  !  my  wife  — 
Prostrate  —  in  chains  !     Valeria,  my  wife  — 
Look  at  me !  speak  to  me  ! 

Valeria. 

My  husband — see  — 
1  too  can  die. 

The  Prince. 

Thou  dying,  and  my  soul 
Still  bound  to  earth  ?     God  will  not  suffer  it ! 

Tora. 

Insensate  !  wilt  thou  love  this  woman  still, 
Who  murdered  thee  ?     Wilt  thou  embrace  her  still, 
Who  lured  thee  to  the  grave  ? 

Piera. 

Ah,  Tora  ! 

The  King. 

Child  — 
Pluck  out  thy  scorpion's  tongue  ! 

The  Prince. 

It  is  a  lie  ! 

How  dar'st  thou  utter  it  ?     A  stupid  lie  ! 
Unsay  it,  lest  thou  send  thy  soul  to  hell  — 
Tora,  my  comrade,  play-mate  ! 
191 


Tor  a. 

T  is  the  truth  — 

God  knows  it,  and  the  woman  lying  there 
Dares  not  deny  it. 

The  Prince. 

Silence  !     Oh,  my  love, 

Think  not  of  her.     I  know  't  is  false,  my  darling. 
Mistrust  me  not. 

Valeria. 
'T  is  true  !  Forgive  !  forgive  ! 

The  Prince. 
True  ?  true  ?     Thou  wouldst  have  killed  me  ? 

Valeria. 

Oh,  forgive  ! 

The  Prince. 

It  seemed  like  falsehood.     If  it  be  the  truth, 
I  must  have  failed  thee  somewhere,  for  thy  heart 
Was  mine  alone. 

Valeria. 
Thine  !  thine  ! 

The  Prince. 

And  we  are  dying 
Together?     I  for  thee,  and  thou  for  me  ? 

Valeria. 
Yes!  yes! 

192 


The  Prince. 

Thank  God  !  naught  have  I  to  forgive. 
God  blesses  us.     What !  is  remorse  so  dread 
That  thou  must  die  ?     The  children  of  a  king, 
We  '11  greet  the  king  of  darkness  with  a  smile, 
And  wreathe  his  dusky  wings  with  roses.     Come  ! 
All  —  all  is  gone  but  love.     Come,  let  us  dream 
That  't  is  our  wedding-day,  for  so  it  is  — 
To-day  we  shall  be  one  in  heaven.     Rise  !  rise  ! 
And  give  me  that  embrace  which  shall  endure 
Through  all  eternity  ! 

Valeria. 

My  lord  !  my  king  ! 

[She  droops  in  his  arms,  and  he  kneels  with  his  burden.] 

The  Prince. 

Hush  —  hush,  dear!  Thus  I  held  thee  first,  my  darling — 
That  day  thy  voice  went  ringing  through  my  soul, 
That  day  I  almost  lost  thee.     Wait  for  me  ! 
Nay  —  wilt  thou  hasten  ? 

[Valeria  dies.] 

Hush  !     1  hear  thy  song. 
I  cannot  see  thee,  darling,  for  the  light. 
Ah,  take  me  !  take  me  ! 

[The  Prince  rises  to  his  full  stature,  and  then  falls  dead.     The  King 
bows  over  him.] 

193 


The  King. 

God's  heaven  will  be  the  purer, 
Now  thou  art  there. 

Tor  a. 

See  —  he  has  gone  with  her ; 
And  I  am  left  alone. 

[The  convent  bell  rings  far  away.] 

Pier  a. 

Hear'st  thou  thy  Lord  ? 
Come,  let  him  teach  thee.     Thou  hast  much  to  learn. 

The  King. 

Dead  !    dead  !    both  dead  !     Great  God  !  thy  world  is 
dead! 

[Curtain.] 


'94 


NIAGARA'S    SONG 


BEHOLD,  they  are  thine,  my  Ontario,  thine!  these  waters 

I  give  to  thee. 

I  pour  the  blue  lakes  in  thy  cup  like  wine — a  foaming 
and  sparkling  sea. 

And  I  chant  thee  a  song 

That  shall  never  change  ; 
Thou  shalt  hear  it  as  long 
As  the  sweet  stars  range 

Past  the  purple  throne  of  the  stately  night,  that  in  silence 
doth  list  to  me. 


'T  is  my  love,  't  is  the  voice  of  my  wooing,  Ontario, 

sister  and  friend. 

Wilt  thou  give  me  thy  soul  for   my  suing,  through 
years  that  shall  have  no  end  ? 
I  have  cloven  a  way 

Through  the  rocks  to  thee  ; 


And  I  bid  thee  stay 

From  the  clamoring  sea 

And  repose  in  the  lap  of  the  glad  green  earth,  lest  thou 
follow  the  sad  moon's  trend. 

in 
There  is  murmur  of  far-away  winds  in  my  song,  there 

is  babbling  of  brooks  and  rills, 

And  the  whisper  of  forests  that  darkly  throng  at  the 
crest  of  the  purple  hills ; 

And  the  lulling  of  leaves 
For  the  day  unborn  — 
Ere  the  swift  light  weaves 

The  gold  mantle  of  morn, 

Softly  wrapping  in  glory  some  deep  still  pool,  till  its 
bosom  with  rapture  thrills. 

IV 

Dost  thou  feel  the  soft  hush  o'er  the  prairie,  where 

rivers  so  gently  flow 

That  the  flowers,  swayed  by  winds  unwary,  peer  down 
at  their  souls  below  ? 

Ah,  they  whisper  of  love, 

And  the  words  they  vow 
Save  the  heavens  above 

Only  I  and  thou 

Shall   hear  through  the  thronging  thunders  for  aye, 
while  the  centuries  come  and  go. 
198 


I  bear  thee  the  white  gull's  quavering  cry  from  Supe 
rior's  sculptured  isles, 

And  the  whirring  of  wings  as  the  geese  mount  high  to 
form  in  their  cloud-like  files. 
In  my  heart  is  the  note 

Of  the  glad  bird's  hymn, 
Who,  in  cooling  his  throat 

At  a  deep  pool's  rim, 

Gave  his  soul  to  remembering  waters  that  bore  me  his 
paean  a  thousand  miles. 

VI 

When  the  sea-souled  lakes  lie  sleeping  as  still  as  a 

planet's  flight, 

Lie  dreaming  of  heaven,  and  keeping  a  tryst  with  the 
stars  all  night, 

When  their  waves  roll  as  blue 

As  the  sky  they  adore, 
When  they  mirror  the  hue 

Of  the  spring  ashore  — 

They  are  mine,  they  are  thine,  O  my  queen  and  my 
love,  with  their  opaline  robes  of  light. 

VII 

They  gather  in  ranks  white-crested  with  foam,  and  toss 

me  their  plumes  in  mirth, 
As  the  numberless  legions  come  marching  home  with  a 

shout  that  doth  shake  the  earth  ; 
i99 


And  the  colors  unfurl 

Of  their  rainbow  flag, 
Till  its  clear  stripes  curl 

O'er  my  mist-veiled  crag  — 

Till  it  floats  its  soft  web  o'er  the  fathomless  pool  where 
the  river  of  storms  has  birth. 

VIII 

They  bring  me  the  summer's  glory,  soft  crowned  with 

a  mist  of  gold, 

And  wrap  me   in  raiment  hoary  when    the  icy  year 
grows  old. 

And  they  shudder  and  roar 

When  the  gray  winds  dash 
O'er  their  quivering  floor 

'Neath  the  lightning's  lash, 

And  the  pale  clouds  flee  at  the  call  of  the  squall  to 
pavilions  of  gloom  and  cold. 

IX 

But  I  gather  them  close  in  their  tumult  of  fright,  and 

I  laugh  as  the  wild  winds  flee; 
For  what  storm  is  so  proud  of  its  perishing  might  as 
to  measure  its  strength  with  me  ? 
It  can  rave  but  an  hour 
Ere  I  scourge  it  home 
Where  the  whirlwinds  cower 

In  my  caves  of  foam  ; 

And  the  roar  of  the  thunder  is  mine  for  aye,  till  the 
hush  of  eternity. 


For  I  come  from   unreckoned  ages,  from  millions  of 

years  long  dead, 

When   unwrit  were  the  world's  wide  pages  by  life's 
unfaltering  tread. 

And  I  sang  my  song 

At  the  dawn  of  time, 
As  the  earth  grew  strong 

For  her  fate  sublime, 

As  she  bore  multitudinous  creatures,  and  lulled  them 
to  sleep  when  their  strength  was  sped. 

XI 

When  imperial  man  on  her  bosom  grew  to  his  king 
dom  of  joy  and  pain, 

I   looked  in  his  luminous  eyes  and  knew  her  long 
labor  was  not  in  vain. 

For  the  dumb  tribes  bowed 

To  the  dauntless  one, 
And  he  sang  aloud 

To  the  shining  sun. 

By  the  might  of  his  wisdom  he  conquered  all,  but  me 
he  can  never  restrain. 

XII 

For  the  past's  unrecorded  emotion   the  future  must 

never  lose, 
For  the   mountains  must  speak  to  the  ocean,  and  I 

am  the  voice  they  choose. 


The  doom  of  the  old 

And  the  hope  of  the  new  — 
The  winter's  cold 

And  the  summer's  blue  — 

From  time  to  eternity  plunge  and  roar,  while  the  stars 
shine  on  and  muse. 

XIII 

I  chant  thee  a  psalm  and  a  threnody,  my  love  with 

the  breast  serene. 

The  praises  of  life  and  of  death  shall  be  a  sweet  song 
in  thy  heart,  my  queen. 

And  forever  and  aye  — 
Till  the  world  is  still 
And  the  light  fades  away 

And  the  sun  grows  chill  — 

I  shall  gather  the  thunders  and  rush  to  thee,  and  in 
peace  on  thy  bosom  lean. 


ORIGIN  OF  THE  TIDES. 

THE  moon,  a  lady  robed  in  white, 

Rose  o'er  the  bosom  of  the  sea 
And  whispered  :  Take  me  !  by  thy  might 

Embrace  me,  seize  me,  set  me  free 
From  endless  bondage  to  the  night ! 

The  brave  sea  rose  to  do  her  will, 
And  tossed  his  pale  arms  high  in  air. 

The  deeps  responded  with  a  thrill 
That  shook  far  coasts  and  islands  fair. 

Yet  the  pale  maid  rode  higher  still. 

The  bold  surge,  wrestling  with  defeat, 
Threw  foamy  kisses  high  —  in  vain. 

At  last  he  sighed  :  Ah,  lady  sweet, 

Thou  art  too  great !     But  thou  shalt  reign 

My  queen.     My  heart  shall  rise  to  greet 

The  daily  dancing  of  thy  feet. 


203 


SONG  OF  THE  AIR. 


HUSH  —  hush  !     Ah,  whisper  low  ! 
Dost  thou  not  know 
Asleep  earth  lies  ? 
Nay  —  wake  her  not !     She  hears 
The  circling  spheres 
Sing  in  their  skies. 

I  love  her.    All  the  day 
I  ward  away 

The  sun's  fierce  scorn. 
All  night  I  sob  and  sing, 
And  cool  winds  bring 
To  soothe  the  morn. 

I  wrap  her  round  with  blue 
Her  lord  looks  through 
With  face  of  fire  — 
With  blue  so  soft  and  pure 
She  can  endure 
His  passion  dire. 
204 


And  when  her  spirit  sighs 
White  clouds  arise 

To  soothe  the  glare. 
When  she  is  sad,  soft  rains 
Efface  her  stains 
And  leave  her  fair. 

And  though  her  beauty  fall 
Beneath  a  pall 

As  gray  as  death, 
Though  by  fierce  tempests  torn 
She  lies  forlorn, 
Weary  of  breath  — 

I  come  with  footfall  soft 
And  lift  aloft 

Her  robes  of  woe  ; 
And  from  her  lover  down 
I  bear  a  crown  — 
The  shining  bow. 

Then  doth  she  ope  her  eyes 
In  glad  surprise, 

And  smile  to  see 
The  sun's  winged  troops  awake 
For  her  sweet  sake, 
Her  slaves  to  be. 
205 


And  I,  I  lie  as  still 
As  nights  that  thrill 

With  dawns  unborn  ; 
I  waft  away  her  tears 
And  soothe  her  fears  — 
Sweet  wraith  forlorn. 

So  hush  !     She  floats  to-night 
On  star  streams  bright ; 

Her  woes  are  gone. 
The  sweet  moon  sings  to  her. 
No  leaf  shall  stir 
Until  the  dawn. 


206 


IN  THE  BEGINNING. 

WHEN  sunshine  met  the  wave 
Then  Love  was  born, 

Then  Beauty  rose  to  save 
A  world  forlorn. 

For  light  a  thousand  wings 

Of  joy  unfurled, 
And  bound  with  golden  rings 

The  icy  world. 

And  color  flamed  the  earth 

With  glad  desire, 
Till  life  sprang  to  the  birth, 

Fire  answering  fire. 

And  so  the  world  awoke, 

And  all  was  done, 
When  first  the  ocean  spoke 

Unto  the  sun. 


207 


A  WRECK. 

BROWN  and  old,  brown  and  old, 

Thou  liest,  thy  cureless  wounds  agape. 

Blue  and  cold,  blue  and  cold, 

The  waves  thy  bare  bones  can  not  'scape. 

They  were  thy  slaves  once  ;  to  atone 

They  mocked  thee,  and  thou  art  their  own. 


A  RONDEAU. 

WHEN  roses  bloom — ah,  wake,  sweet  May! 
The  still  world  hears  a  roundelay 

Athrill  within  the  throat  of  spring. 

Awake  !  your  brightest  trophies  bring 
And  speed  the  winter's  frown  away. 

For  glory  reigns  the  livelong  day, 
And  Lethean  perfumes  softly  stray 

'Mid  shining  bowers  where  dear  hopes  cling 
When  roses  bloom. 

Ah,  life,  not  thine  deep  mists  of  gray, 
Not  thine  black  voids  without  a  ray  — 

The  wide  dawns  flash,  the  young  winds  sing, 
My  heart's  bells  clamorously  ring, 
The  years  throng  smiling  crowned  with  bay — 
When  roses  bloom. 


209 


CANTATA. 

Sung  at  the  dedication  of  the  Chicago  Auditorium, 
December  9,  1889. 

HAIL  to  thee,  fair  Chicago  !     On  thy  brow 

America,  thy  mother,  lays  a  crown. 
Bravest  among  her  daughters  brave  art  thou, 

Most  strong  of  all  her  heirs  of  high  renown. 
Thine  elder  sisters  from  the  peopled  East, 

Throned  by  the  surging  sea, 
Lift  foaming  cups  to  pledge  thy  crownal  feast, 

Calling,  All  hail  !  to  thee. 

Down  in  the  mellow  regions  where  time  dozes, 
Rocked  by  soft  winds,  warmed  by  the  lazy  sun, 
Sweet  southern  cities  gather  wealth  of  roses 

To  wreathe  for  thee  the  garlands  thou  hast  won. 
And  the  young  West  rings  out  a  glad  acclaim  ; 

Children  new-born  to  fame, 
Bold  sister  cities,  generous  and  free, 
Call  hail  to  thee  ! 
213 


From  misty  rivers,  from  the  lofty  plains 

Rimmed  round  with  hoary  guardians  grim  and  old, 

From  the  rich  realm  beyond,  where  summer  reigns, 
And  the  warm  ocean  sleeps  in  robes  of  gold, 

From  far  and  near  the  choral  praises  ring  — 

The  wise  world  wakes,  thy  festal  song  to  sing. 

The  ages  trailed  enwrapt  in  dreams 

Along  the  tideless  sea. 
The  marsh-grass  waved  in  sluggish  streams, 

The  snipe  piped  bold  and  free. 
The  prairies  lay  beflowered  and  gay, 

And  time  knew  naught  of  thee. 

And  feather-crested  chieftains  met 

Upon  thy  sandy  shore, 
Before  their  lurid  sun  had  set 

Afar,  to  rise  no  more. 
They  could  not  hear  Fate's  liegemen  near, 

Nor  see  the  flag  they  bore. 

i 

But  the  soul  of  the  river  lay  pondering  there 

Of  the  wonderful  days  to  be : 
My  bosom  the  wealth  of  the  world  shall  bear 

When  the  white  ships  rest  with  me, 
When  the  spirit  of  steam  and  the  spirit  of  air 
Shall  waft  me  a  race  like  the  sunlight  fair, 
214 


As  strong  as  hope 
Fate's  doors  to  ope 
To  realms  that  are  rich  for  the  souls  that  dare. 


And  the  sweet  blue  lake  that  doth  dream  of  the  sky, 
Or  sing  of  the  sea  when  the  surge  rolls  high, 
Came  crested  with  foam  to  the  shell-strewn  strand, 
And  murmured  :  I  hear  thee,  O  River! 

My  waters  shall  waft  to  land 
A  race  for  whom  God  the  Giver 

Hath  opened  his  opulent  hand. 
And  a  fabric  of  purple  and  gold  and  blue, 

From  the  rays  of  the  morning  spun, 
For  the  robes  of  his  joy  in  this  kingdom  new 
We  have  woven  —  I  and  the  sun. 


And  weary  nations  heard 

As  they  dreamed  on  the  breast  of  time, 
Till  the  yearning  world  was  stirred 

With  the  thrill  of  a  birth  sublime. 
And  the  spirits  that  wait  with  God  — 

Freedom  and  Faith  and  Power  — 
Looked  down  in  men's  eyes  and  trod 

The  earth,  as  in  earth's  first  hour. 
And  they  wrought  for  the  world  and  sang 
Till  the  morn  with  music  rang : 
215 


A  mighty  nation  shall  arise, 

Whose  power  shall  perish  never  ; 
A  valiant  people,  free  and  wise, 
The  chains  of  hate  shall  sever. 
A  city  brave  and  fair 
Their  flag  of  hope  shall  bear. 
In  liberty  and  love, 
Like  hosts  of  God  above, 
Glad  states  shall  march  forever. 


A  rush  of  leathern  wings 

From  shadowed  depths  of  shame 
Rose  thunderous  ;   and  evil  things, 

Whose  brows  were  wheeled  with  flame, 
Came  hissing  :  Nay  —  beware  ! 
Ye  speed  on  to  despair. 


And  one  said:  I  am  War! 

I  will  cleave  your  land  in  twain, 
And  the  star-strewn  blue  of  that  banner  new 

Shall  be  wet  with  a  crimson  rain. 


Fierce  Fire  hissed  :  Would  you  rear 

A  city  of  delight  ? 
Lo  !  I  will  wander  near 

And  waste  it  in  a  night ! 
216 


And  Anarchy  upreared 

A  visage  haggard,  bleared, 
That  screeched  :  Your  flag  is  a  brilliant  rag  ! 

Will  it  shine  so  fair 

When  its  stripes  I  tear, 
And  its  stars  in  the  mire  I  drag? 

And  Greed  sneered  :  Fold  on  fold 

I  will  dim  its  hues  with  gold. 

The  light  of  hope  shall  shine  no  more 

Beyond  the  night,  above  the  roar 

That  darkens,  maddens  all  the  world, 

When  bound  with  gold  that  flag  lies  furled. 

And  all  hell's  brood  shrieked  :  No  ! 
Love  dies,  but  hate  shall  grow. 

But  God's  bright  host  said  :   Peace  ! 

And  snows  of  silence  fell. 
Fear  not  !   these  woes  shall  cease  — 

He  doeth  all  things  well. 
The  morning  light  shall  purge  away  each  stain 

That  flag  must  bear. 
Like  April,  smiling  after  every  rain 

More  pure  and  fair, 

The  land  shall  wake  to  rapture  from  her  pain, 
Of  love  aware. 
217 


And  when  the  banner  city  wounded  falls, 
When  ashes  fill  her  halls, 

Her  heart  shall  fail  not,  for  the  suppliant  years 
Shall  bid  her  dry  her  tears 

And  come  to  them.     New  glory  in  her  eyes, 

New  courage  in  her  soul,  she  shall  arise. 


City  of  freedom  !  city  of  our  love! 

The  golden  harvests  of  the  world  are  thine. 
Green  fields  around  thee,  fields  of  blue  above, 

Glad  in  exultant  youth,  in  power  divine, 
Thou  smilest  on  the  marge  of  shining  seas, 
Pure  as  their  robes  of  light. 

Strange  glories  trail  across  with  every  breeze 

Slow  pomp  of  day  and  night. 
Enthroned  in  majesty,  thou  claimest  now 

Thine  heritage  of  beauty —  robes  impearled, 
Mantles  of  purple,  jewels  for  thy  brow, 

Splendors  new-wrought  to  rouse  the  aging  world. 
Thine  they  shall  be.     Here  to  thy  hall  of  state  — 

The  temple  of  our  sacred  liberty, 
Where  young  Democracy,  proud  priest  of  fate, 

Shall  shout  afar  full  many  a  brave  decree  — 
Hither  comes  trooping  a  resplendent  train 

Bedecked  with  flowers  ; 
The  loving  arts  shall  ease  thy  breast  of  pain 
Long  golden  hours. 


New  thoughts  are  thine  ;  new  visions  rise 

Before  thy  clear  prophetic  eyes. 
On  to  the  future,  where  the  light 

Streams  over  fields  of  glory, 
Thy  soul  doth  take  its  morning  flight 

From  slumberous  ages  hoary. 
Out  of  the  dark  an  eagle  to  the  sun 
Speeds  on.    Awake  !    'T  is  day  !    The  night  is  done. 


219 


COMMEMORATION    ODE. 

Read  and  sung  at  the  dedicatory  ceremonies  of  the  World's 
Columbian  Exposition,  on  the  four-hundredth  anni 
versary  of  the  discovery  of  America. 

COLUMBIA  !  on  thy  brow  are  dewy  flowers 

Plucked  from  wide  prairies  and  from  mighty  hills. 
Lo !  toward  this  day  have  led  the  steadfast  hours. 

Now  to  thy  hope  the  world  its  beaker  fills. 
The  old  earth  hears  a  song  of  blessed  themes, 
And  lifts  her  head  from  a  deep  couch  of  dreams. 
Her  queenly  nations,  elder-born  of  time, 

Troop  from  high  thrones  to  hear, 
Clasp  thy  strong  hands,  tread  with  thee  paths  sublime, 

Lovingly  bend  the  ear. 
Spain,  in  the  broidered  robes  of  chivalry, 

Comes  with  slow  foot  and  inward-brooding  eyes. 
Bow  to  her  banner  !   't  was  the  first  to  rise 
Out  of  the  dark  for  thee. 


And  England,  royal  mother,  whose  right  hand 

Molds  nations,  whose  white  feet  the  ocean  tread, 
Lays  down  her  sword  on  thy  beloved  strand 

To  bless  thy  wreathed  head  ; 
Hearing  in  thine  her  voice,  bidding  thy  soul 
Fulfil  her  dream,  the  foremost  at  the  goal. 
And  France,  who  once  thy  fainting  form  upbore, 
Brings  baauty  now  where  strength  she  brought  of  yore ; 
France,  the  swift-footed,  who  with  thee 
Gazed  in  the  eyes  of  liberty, 
And  loved  the  dark  no  more. 

Around  the  peopled  world 
Bright  banners  are  unfurled. 
The  long  procession  winds  from  shore  to  shore. 
The  Norseman  sails 
Through  icy  gales 

To  the  green  Vineland  of  his  long-ago. 
Russia  rides  down  from  realms  of  sun  and  snow. 
Germany  casts  afar 
Her  iron  robes  of  war, 
And  strikes  her  harp  with  thy  triumphal  song. 

Italy  opens  wide  her  epic  scroll, 
In  bright  hues  blazoned,  with  great  deeds  writ  long, 

And  bids  thee  win  the  kingdom  of  the  soul. 
And  the  calm  Orient,  wise  with  many  days, 
From  hoary  Palestine  to  sweet  Japan 
Salutes  thy  conquering  youth  ; 


Bidding  thee  hush  while  all  the  nations  praise, 
Know,  though  the  world  endure  but  for  a  span, 

Deathless  is  truth. 
Lo  !  unto  these  the  ever-living  past 

Ushers  a  mighty  pageant,  bids  arise 
Dead  centuries,  freighted  with  visions  vast, 
Blowing  dim  mists  into  the  future's  eyes. 
Their  song  is  all  of  thee, 
Daughter  of  mystery. 

Alone !    alone  ! 
Behind  wide  walls  of  sea! 
And  never  a  ship  has  flown 
A  prisoned  world  to  free. 
Fair  is  the  sunny  day 

On  mountain  and  lake  and  stream, 
Yet  wild  men  starve  and  slay, 

And  the  young  earth  lies  adream. 
Long  have  the  dumb  years  passed  with  vacant  eyes, 
Bearing  rich  gifts  for  nations  throned  afar, 
Guarding  thy  soul  inviolate  as  a  star, 
Leaving  thee  safe  with  God  till  man  grow  wise. 
At  last  one  patient  heart  is  born 
Fearless  of  ignorance  and  scorn. 
His  strong  youth  wasteth  at  thy  sealed  gate  — 

Kings  will  not  open  to  the  untrod  path. 
His  hope  grows  sere  while  all  the  angels  wait, 
The  prophet  bows  under  the  dull  world's  wrath, 


Until  a  woman  fair 

As  morning  lilies  are 

Brings  him  a  jeweled  key  — 

And  lo  !  a  world  is  free. 
Wide  swings  the  portal  never  touched  before, 
Strange  luring  winds  blow  from  an  unseen  shore. 
Toward  dreams  that  cannot  fail 
He  bids  the  three  ships  sail, 
While  man's  new  song  of  hope  rings  out  against  the 

gale. 


Over  the  wide  unknown, 

Far  to  the  shores  of  Ind, 
On  through  the  dark  alone, 

Like  a  feather  blown  by  the  wind ; 
Into  the  west  away, 

Sped  by  the  breath  of  God, 
Seeking  the  clearer  day 

Where  only  his  feet  have  trod : 
From  the  past  to  the  future  we  sail; 

We  slip  from  the  leash  of  kings. 
Hail,  spirit  of  freedom  —  hail ! 

Unfurl  thine  impalpable  wings  ! 
Receive  us,  protect  us,  and  bless 

Thy  knights  who  brave  all  for  thee. 
Though  death  be  thy  soft  caress, 

By  that  touch  shall  our  souls  be  free. 
223 


Onward  and  ever  on, 

Till  the  voice  of  despair  is  stilled, 
Till  the  haven  of  peace  is  won, 

And  the  purpose  of  God  fulfilled  ! 


O  strange,  divine  surprise  ! 
Out  of  the  dark  man  strives  to  rise, 
And  struggles  inch  by  inch  with  toil  and  tears; 
Till,  lo  !  God  stoops  from  his  supernal  spheres, 
And  bares  the  glory  of  his  face. 
Then  darkness  flees  afar, 
This  earth  becomes  a  star — 
Man  leaps  up  to  the  lofty  place. 
We  ask  a  little — all  is  given. 
We  seek  a  lamp  —  God  grants  us  heaven. 
So  these  who  dared  to  pass  beyond  the  pale, 

For  an  idea  tempting  the  shrouded  seas, 
Sought  but  Cathay.     God  bade  their  faith  prevail 

To  find  a  world  —  blessed  his  purposes! 
The  hero  knew  not  what  a  virgin  soul 
Laughed  through  glad  eyes  when  at  her  feet  he  laid 
The  gaudy  trappings  of  man's  masquerade. 
She  who  had  dwelt  in  forests,  heard  the  roll 
Of  lakes  down-thundering  to  the  sea, 
Beheld  from  gleaming  mountain  heights 
Two  oceans  playing  with  the  lights 
224 


Of  eve  and  morn  —  ah  !   what  would  she 

With  all  the  out-worn  pageantry 
Of  purple  robes  and  heavy  mace  and  crown  ? 
Smiling  she  casts  them  down, 

Unfit  her  young  austerity 
Of  hair  unbound  and  strong  limbs  bare  and  brown. 

Yet  they  who  dare  arise 

And  meet  her  stainless  eyes 
Forget  old  loves,  though  crowned  queens  these  be. 

And  whither  her  winged  feet  fare 

They  follow  though  death  be  there  — 
So  sweet,  so  fleet,  so  goddess-pure  is  she. 
Her  voice  is  like  deep  rivers,  that  do  flow 

Through  forests  bending  low. 
Her  step  is  softest  moonlight,  that  doth  force 

The  ocean  to  its  course. 
Gentle  her  smile,  for  something  in  man's  face, 

World-worn,  time-weary,  furrowed  deep  with  tears, 
Thrills  her  chaste  heart  with  a  more  tender  grace. 
Softly  she  smoothes  the  wrinkles  from  his  brow, 

Wrought  by  the  baleful  years, 
Smiles  sunshine  on  the  hoar  head,  whispers  low 
New  charges  from  the  awakened  will  of  truth  — 
Words  all  of  fire,  that  thrill  his  soul  with  youth. 
Not  with  his  brother  is  man's  battle  here. 

The  challenge  of  the  earth,  that  Adam  heard, 
His  love  austere  breathes  in  his  eager  ear. 
225 


And  lo !   the  knight  who  warred  at  love's  command, 
And  scarred  the  face  of  Europe,  sheathes  his  sword, 
Hearing  from  untaught  lips  a  nobler  word, 
Taking  new  weapons  from  an  unstained  hand. 
With  axe  and  oar,  with  mallet  and  with  spade, 
She  bids  the  hero  conquer,  unafraid 
Though  cloud-veiled  Titans  be  his  lordly  foes  — 
Spirits  of  earth  and  air,  whose  wars  brook  no  repose. 

For  from  far-away  mountain  and  plain, 

From  the  shores  of  the  sunset  sea, 
The  unwearying  rulers  complain,  complain, 
And  throng  from  the  wastes  to  defend  their  reign, 

Their  threatened  majesty. 
The  low  prairies  that  lie  abloom 

Sigh  out  to  the  summer  air: 
Shall  our  dark  soil  be  the  tomb 

Of  the  flowers  that  rise  so  fair? 
Shall  we  yield  to  man's  disdain, 
And  nourish  his  golden  grain  ? 
We  will  freeze  and  burn  and  snare. 
Ah  !  bid  him  beware  !  beware  ! 
And  the  forests,  heavy  and  dark  and  deep 
With  the  shadows  of  shrouded  years, 
In  a  murmurous  voice,  out  of  age-long  sleep, 

Ask  the  winds  :  What  creature  rude 

Would  storm  our  solitude? 

Hath  his  soul  no  fears,  no  tears? 
226 


The  prone  rivers  lift  up  their  snow-crowned  heads, 
Arise  in  wrath  from  their  rock-hewn  beds, 

And  roar :  We  will  ravage  and  drown 

Ere  we  float  his  white  ships  down. 
And  the  lakes,  from  a  mist 
Of  amethyst, 
Call  the  storm-clouds  down ,  and  grow  ashen  and  brown . 

And  all  the  four  winds  wail: 

Our  gales  shall  make  him  quail. 

By  blinding  snow,  by  burning  sun 

His  strength  shall  be  undone. 
Then  men  in  league  with  these  — 

Brothers  of  wind  and  waste  — 
Hew  barbs  of  flint,  and  darkly  haste 

From  sheltering  tents  and  trees; 

And  mutter  :  Away  !  away  ! 

Ye  children  of  white-browed  day ! 
Who  dares  profane  our  wild  gods'  reign 

We  torture  and  trap  and  slay. 

Child  of  the  light,  the  shadows  fall  in  vain. 

Herald  of  God,  in  vain  the  powers  conspire. 

Armed  with  truth's  holy  cross,  faith's  sacred  fire, 
Though  often  vanquished,  he  shall  rise  again, 
Nor  rest  till  the  wild  lords  of  earth  and  air 
Bow  to  his  will,  his  burdens  glad  to  bear. 
The  angels  leave  him  not  through  the  long  strife, 
But  sing  large  annals  of  their  own  wide  life, 
227 


Luring  him  on  to  freedom.     On  that  field, 
From  giants  won,  shall  man  be  slave  to  man? 

Lo  !  clan  on  clan, 

The  embattled  nations  gather  to  be  one, 
Clasp  hands  as  brothers  'neath  Columbia's  shield, 
Upraise  her  banner  to  the  shining  sun. 
Along  her  blessed  shore 

One  heart,  one  song,  one  dream  — 
Man  shall  be  free  forevermore, 
And  love  shall  be  supreme. 

When  dreaming  kings,  at  odds  with  swift-paced  time, 

Would  strike  that  banner  down, 
A  nobler  knight  than  ever  writ  or  rhyme 

With  fame's  bright  wreath  did  crown 
Through  armed  hosts  bore  it  till  it  floated  high 
Beyond  the  clouds,  a  light  that  cannot  die ! 

Ah,  hero  of  our  younger  race  ! 
Great  builder  of  a  temple  new  ! 

Ruler,  who  sought  no  lordly  place  ! 
Warrior,  who  sheathed  the  sword  he  drew ! 

Lover  of  men,  who  saw  afar 

A  world  unmarred  by  want  or  war, 

Who  knew  the  path,  and  yet  forbore 

To  tread,  till  all  men  should  implore ; 

Who  saw  the  light,  and  led  the  way 

Where  the  gray  world  might  greet  the  day  ; 


Father  and  leader,  prophet  sure, 
Whose  Vill  in  vast  works  shall  endure, 
How  shall  we  praise  him  on  this  day  of  days, 
Great  son  of  fame  who  has  no  need  of  praise  ? 

How  shall  we  praise  him?     Open  wide  the  doors 
Of  the  fair  temple  whose  broad  base  he  laid. 
Through  its  white  halls  a  shadowy  cavalcade 
Of  heroes  moves  o'er  unresounding  floors  — 
Men  whose  brawned  arms  upraised  these  columns  high, 
And  reared  the  towers  that  vanish  in  the  sky  — 
The  strong  who,  having  wrought,  can  never  die. 

And  lo !   leading  a  blessed  host  comes  one 
Who  held  a  warring  nation  in  his  heart ; 
Who  knew  love's  agony,  but  had  no  part 

In  love's  delight ;   whose  mighty  task  was  done 

Through  blood  and  tears  that  we  might  walk  in  joy, 

And  this  day's  rapture  own  no  sad  alloy. 

Around  him  heirs  of  bliss,  whose  bright  brows  wear 

Palm-leaves  amid  their  laurels  ever  fair. 
.Gaily  they  come,  as  though  the  drum 

Beat  out  the  call  their  glad  hearts  knew  so  well. 
Brothers  once  more,  dear  as  of  yore, 

Who  in  a  noble  conflict  nobly  fell, 

Their  blood  washed  pure  yon  banner  in  the  sky, 
229 


And  quenched  the  brands  laid  'neath  these  arches  high  — 
The  brave  who,  having  fought,  can  never  cHe. 

Then  surging  through  the  vastness  rise  once  more 
The  aureoled  heirs  of  light,  who  onward  bore 
Through  darksome  times  and  trackless  realms  of  ruth 
The  flag  of  beauty  and  the  torch  of  truth. 
They  tore  the  mask  from  the  foul  face  of  wrong ; 

Even  to  God's  mysteries  they  dared  aspire; 

High  in  the  choir  they  lit  yon  altar-fire, 
And  filled  these  aisles  with  color  and  with  song : 
The  ever-young,  the  unfallen,  wreathing  for  time 

Fresh  garlands  of  the  seeming-vanished  years  ; 
Faces  long  luminous,  remote,  sublime, 

And  shining  brows  still  dewy  with  our  tears. 
Back  with  the  old  glad  smile  comes  one  we  knew  — 

We  bade  him  rear  our  house  of  joy  to-day. 

But  beauty  opened  wide  her  starry  way, 
And  he  passed  on.     Bright  champions  of  the  true, 
Soldiers  of  peace,  seers,  singers  ever  blest  — 
From  the  wide  ether  of  a  loftier  quest 
Their  winged  souls  throng  our  rites  to  glorify  — 
The  wise  who,  having  known,  can  never  die. 

Strange  splendors  stream  the  vaulted  aisles  along — 
To  these  we  loved  celestial  rapture  clings. 
And  music,  borne  on  rhythm  of  rising  wings, 

Floats  from  the  living  dead,  whose  breath  is  song. 
230 


Columbia,  my  country,  dost  thou  hear? 

Ah  !  dost  thou  hear  the  songs  unheard  of  time  ? 
Hark  !  for  their  passion  trembles  at  thine  ear. 

Hush!  for  thy  soul  must  heed  their  call  sublime. 
Across  wide  seas,  unswept  by  earthly  sails, 

Those  strange  sounds  draw  thee  on,  for  thou  shalt  be 
Leader  of  nations  through  the  autumnal  gales 

That  wait  to  mock  the  strong  and  wreck  the  free. 
Dearer,  more  radiant  than  of  yore, 
Against  the  dark  I  see  thee  rise ; 
Thy  young  smile  spurns  the  guarded  shore 
And  braves  the  shadowed  ominous  skies. 
And  still  that  conquering  smile  who  see 
Pledge  love,  life,  service  all  to  thee. 
The  years  have  brought  thee  robes  most  fair  — 

The  rich  processional  years  — 
And  filleted  thy  shining  hair, 
And  zoned  thy  waist  with  jewels  rare, 

And  whispered  in  thine  ears 
Strange  secrets  of  God's  wondrous  ways, 
Long  hid  from  human  awe  and  praise. 

For  lo !    the  living  God  doth  bare  his  arm. 

No  more  he  makes  his  house  of  clouds  and  gloom. 
Lightly  the  shuttles  move  within  his  loom; 
Unveiled  his  thunder  leaps  to  meet  the  storm. 
From  God's  right  hand  man  takes  the  powers  that  sway 
A  universe  of  stars. 
231 


He  bows  them  down  ;  he  bids  them  go  or  stay  ; 

He  tames  them  for  his  wars. 
He  scans  the  burning  paces  of  the  sun, 
And  names  the  invisible  orbs  whose  courses  run 

Through  the  dim  deeps  of  space. 
He  sees  in  dew  upon  a  rose  impearled 
The  swarming  legions  of  a  monad  world 
Begin  life's  upward  race. 

Voices  of  hope  he  hears 
Long  dumb  to  his  despair, 

And  dreams  of  golden  years 
Meet  for  a  world  so  fair. 
For  now  Democracy  doth  wake  and  rise 

From  the  sweet  sloth  of  youth. 
By  storms  made  strong,  by  many  dreams  made  wise, 

He  clasps  the  hand  of  truth. 
Through  the  armed  nations  lies  his  path  of  peace, 

The  open  book  of  knowledge  in  his  hand. 
Food  to  the  starving,  to  the  oppressed  release, 
And  love  to  all  he  bears  from  land  to  land. 
Before  his  march  the  barriers  fall, 
The  laws  grow  gentle  at  his  call. 
His  glowing  breath  blows  far  away 
The  fogs  that  veil  the  coming  day  — 

That  wondrous  day 

When  earth  shall  sing  as  through  the  blue  she  rolls 
Laden  with  joy  for  all  her  thronging  souls. 
Then  shall  want's  call  to  sin  resound  no  more 
232 


Across  her  teeming  fields.     And  pain  shall  sleep, 
Soothed  by  brave  science  with  her  magic  lore, 

And  war  no  more  shall  bid  the  nations  weep. 
Then  the  worn  chains  shall  slip  from  man's  desire, 

And  ever  higher  and  higher 

His  swift  foot  shall  aspire  ; 

Still  deeper  and  more  deep 

His  soul  its  watch  shall  keep, 
Till  love  shall  make  the  world  a  holy  place, 
Where  knowledge  dares  unveil  God's  very  face. 

Not  yet  the  angels  hear  life's  last  clear  song. 

Music  unutterably  pure  and  strong 

From  earth  shall  rise  to  haunt  the  peopled  skies 

When  the  long  march  of  time, 
Patient  in  birth  and  death,  in  growth  and  blight, 
Shall  lead  man  up  through  happy  realms  of  light 

Unto  his  goal  sublime. 


Columbia !     Men  beheld  thee  rise 
A  goddess  from  the  misty  sea. 
Lady  of  joy,  sent  from  the  skies, 
The  nations  worshiped  thee. 
Thy  brows  were  flushed  with  dawn's  first  light ; 
By  foamy  waves  with  stars  bedight 
Thy  blue  robe  floated  free. 
233 


Now  let  the  sun  ride  high  o'erhead, 

Driving  the  day  from  shore  to  shore. 
His  burning  tread  we  do  not  dread, 

For  thou  art  evermore 
Lady  of  love  whose  smile  shall  bless, 
Whom  brave  deeds  win  to  tenderness, 
Whose  tears  the  lost  restore. 

Lady  of  hope  thou  art.     We  wait 

With  courage  thy  serene  command. 
Through  unknown  seas,  toward  undreamed  fate, 

We  ask  thy  guiding  hand. 
On  !  though  sails  quiver  in  the  gale  !  — 
Thou  at  the  helm,  we  cannot  fail. 

On  to  God's  time-veiled  strand! 

Lady  of  beauty  !  thou  shalt  win 

Glory  and  power  and  length  of  days. 
The  sun  and  moon  shall  be  thy  kin, 
The  stars  shall  sing  thy  praise. 
All  hail !  we  bring  thee  vows  most  sweet 
To  strew  before  thy  winged  feet. 
Now  onward  be  thy  ways ! 


234 


OUR  LADY  OF  ART. 

WHO  art  thou,  woman  wondrous  fair, 
Whose  face  is  wan  with  woe  ? 

Torn  are  thy  feet,  thy  brow  is  bare  — 
Ah,  whither  wilt  thou  go? 

What  wailing  child  thy  cloak  doth  share, 
Though  icy  tempests  blow  ? 

Said  she:  A  traveler  I,  who  found 
This  child  upon  the  sodden  ground. 
Whither  God  leads  us  we  are  bound. 

Ah,  lady,  Death  awakes  to-night  — 

I  see  his  eyes  of  flame. 
Come  in  —  my  hearth-fire  shineth  bright - 

Come  bless  Christ's  holy  name  ! 
Thy  seat  shall  be  a  throne  of  light, 

A  silver  flute  thy  fame. 

Go d  keep  thy  house  in  peace,  she  said  ; 
And  guard  thy  soul  from  woful  dread ! 
Far  lies  the  path  my  feet  must  tread. 

237 


'T  is  love  implores  thee.     Not  in  vain 

Love  kneels  before  thy  feet. 
Ah,  break  those  bitter  bonds  of  pain 

And  wear  love's  garland  sweet. 
Bright  gems,  rich  robes  without  a  stain 

For  such  a  bride  were  meet. 

Ah  I  Jove  is  dear,  but  God  hath  lit 
His  lamp  of  truth.    Though  poor  my  wit, 
I  cannot  choose  but  follow  it. 

Nay,  thou  dost  dream  —  no  light  is  there, 

But  darkness  void  and  lone. 
Deep  chasms  yawn  thy  soul  to  snare 

Where  death  shall  claim  his  own. 
The  babe  shrinks  trembling.  Ah,  beware  ! 

Dost  thou  not  hear  his  moan  ? 

God  bade  me  bear  the  child  afar. 
Though  we  be  led  where  tempests  are, 
Deep  in  the  sky  shines  many  a  star. 

Nay,  then  alas  !  — speed  on  thy  way, 
Hard  is  thy  heart  and  proud. 

Haste  on  !  the  child  with  us  shall  stay ; 
Not  his  thy  fated  shroud. 

He  shall  be  strong  and  blithe  and  gay, 
His  soul  shall  sing  aloud. 
238 


He  lay  all  naked  by  the  path. 

Ye  passed  him  by.     God's  pity  bath 

Made  strong  mine  arms.   Beware  His  wrath  ! 

Base-born  the  child!  and  thou  art  base, 
Thou  strangely  stubborn  thing  ! 

On  to  the  night,  and  leave  no  trace 
Of  this  thy  wandering. 

Away  !  that  we  forget  thy  face  — 
The  madness  thou  wouldst  bring. 

Hush,  hush  !  they  cannot  take  thee,  dear. 
Thine  am  I  still — thou  shalt  not  fear. 
These  know  not;  now  they  cannot  hear. 

The  starving  winds  in  veils  of  sleet 
Wailed  like  thin  ghosts  in  pain, 

And  eager  tempests  fierce  and  fleet 
Roared  madly  in  their  train. 

But  Danger  at  my  lady's  feet 
Spread  all  his  snares  in  vain. 

Ah,  child,  rest  close  upon  my  heart ; 
No  power  shall  rend  us  twain  apart, 
God's  hostage  to  my  soul  thou  art. 

And  blithe  and  sweet,  and  fair  and  free, 
Through  all  the  deadly  place, 

239 


She  bore  her  burden  joyously, 

And  sped  her  eager  pace, 
And  when  the  morn  awoke  in  glee 

A  rapture  filled  her  face. 

Seest  thou  the  light,  my  child  ?   Behold — 
Truth  comes  to  earth  in  robes  of  gold, 
Even  as  our  blessed  faith  foretold. 

And  lo  !  a  choral  song  of  praise 
Rose  from  the  meadows  green, 

And  all  the  world  was  wreathing  bays 
To  crown  my  lady  queen ; 

While  seraphs  trooped  from  heaven  to  gaze 
In  golden  throngs  serene. 

Rejoice,  my  child  !  God  led  us  right. 
Along  the  path  we  trod  by  night 
The  world  comes  singing  in  delight. 

The  child  that  lay  upon  her  breast 

Shone  with  a  splendor  rare. 
Angels  and  men  his  glory  blessed, 

Their  song  became  a  prayer. 
The  choiring  hosts  their  Lord  confessed, 

And  knelt  in  worship  there. 

Now  God  be  praised  !  awake,  mine  eyes, 

Unworthy  this  divine  surprise  ! 

Here  in  mine  arms  the  Christ-child  lies. 


FROM  THE  DARK/ 

GOD  sat  enthroned  in  glory,  with  saints  and  seraphim 
In  triple  rows  around  him,  as  far  as  heaven's  rim. 
And  songs  that  rule  the  planets  arose  in  waves  to  him. 

He  spake  :  Behold  my  servant,  whom  men  and  angels 

praise  ! 
Whose  hand  so  strong  to  please  me,  before  my  throne 

to  raise 
Temples  and  towers  whose  beauty  shall  gild  the  golden 

days? 

*  "  He  was  one  of  us,  yet  he  was  not.  We  seem  all  in  a  common 
crowd  and  all  alike,  or  differing  but  in  measurable  degree;  then  we 
are  tried  by  adversity,  and  one  remains  steadfast;  we  are  tried  by 
war,  and  one  rises  to  command  our  commanders ;  and  in  the  end  we 
are  tried  by  time,  and  one  who  sat  with  us  is  immortal.  Others  were 
heard  in  their  day,  but  when  their  voices  are  silent  his  still  speaks  on, 
and  is  forever  listened  to  in  the  assemblies  of  the  wise. 

"  John  Wellborn  Root  is  dead ;  and  this  city  of  triumphs  and  misfor 
tunes,  which  had  high  triumph  in  his  work,  has  suffered  in  his  death 
profoundest  misfortune.  The  city  will  still  be  great,  powerful,  prodi 
gious;  but  the  "hands  —  the  two  hands  which  could  mold  its  ambition 
into  beauty,  its  greatness  into  grandeur  —  are  done  with  work.  .  .  . 

"  What  time«  does  not  destroy  it  cherishes,  what  it  does  not  wear 
away  it  makes  greater ;  and  the  names  of  men  great  in  art,  cherished 
and  made  vast  by  time,  weigh  upon  the  senses  of  the  present.  Yet  one 


And  God  said  :    Go,  mine  angels,  and  to  my  servant 

bear 
The  joy  wherewith  1  love  him,  and  all  gifts  pure  and 

rare. 
Bid  him  scale  heaven  to  know  me  ;  even  this  his  soul 

shall  dare. 

Then  like  white  words  of  mercy  down  to  the  aching 

world 
The  angels  bore  God's  message.     With  heaven-bright 

pinions  furled 
They  stood  before  his  servant,  and  bowed  their  brows 

impearled. 

And  one  who  shone  with  wisdom  more  splendid  than 

the  sun 
Said :    Lo,   I  bring   thee   treasures  from  truth's   high 

kingdom  won  ; 
And  touch  thy  lips  with  sweetness,  that  God's  will 

may  be  done. 

may  look  over  the  earth  and  say  that  no  architect  of  immortal  name 
in  any  age  did  more  for  his  own  fame,  or  for  the  world  of  beauty,  than 
he  who  twenty  years  ago  was  a  boy  and  who  now  is  dead. 

"  '  Till  wasteful  war  shall  statues  overturn, 
And  broils  root  out  the  work  of  masonry,' 

he  will  be  remembered.  As  long  as  one  stone  remains  above  another, 
those  stones  will  have  a  tongue  to  proclaim  his  genius.  For  whatever 
remains  will  be  right,  just,  and  beautiful  beyond  rules.  The  ruins 
will  furnish  examples  for  newer  days." 

—  Chicago  News,  January  22,  1891. 


242 


And  one  whose  face  was  lovely  as  dawn  in  summer  skies 
Sang  softly:  I  am  Beauty,  the  jewel  of  God's  eyes  ; 
I  bring  the  arts  to  serve  thee,  bright  flowers  of  paradise. 

And  one  whose  eyes  were  deeper  than  silent  seas  at 

night 
Said :    Lo,  from  Christ's  own   heart's-blood  I  shaped 

this  ruby  bright ; 
For  I  am  Love  ;  I   bring  thee  the  splendor  of  love's 

light. 

And  one  wove  for  his  glory  a  laurel-wreath  eterne  — 
Upon  her  brow  prophetic  a  shining  star  did  burn. 
She   said :    The   reverent   ages  shall  list  to  thee   and 
learn. 

Then  rose  a  gentle  angel,  whose  eyes  were  veiled  in 

mist, 

Whose  dusky  wings  were  silvered  with  softest  amethyst, 
And  all   the  seraphs,  kneeling,  his  trailing  garments 

kissed. 

Nay,  hush  !  Desires  ye  give  him  ;  from  these  I  bring 

release. 
Hath  he  not  won  earth's  battles  ?  And  shall  the  triumph 

cease  ? 
The  war  of  life  is  over.  I  bear  God's  crown  of  peace. 


243 


Ah,  Lord  !    Upon  thy  ramparts  are  crystal  towers  whose 

stones 

Are  suns  that  burn  forever.     Thy  heaven's  azure  zones 
Are  ringed  with  radiant  mansions,  studded  with  shining 

thrones. 

Heaven  doth  not  need  the  glory  earth  dearly  cherisheth. 
Why  didst  thou  thrill  his  spirit  with  thy  celestial  breath? 
Bid  all  thine  angels  serve  him,  and  give  the  crown  to 
Death? 


SHADOWS. 

WHAT  is  most  near  ? 

Ah,  sweet  dead  year  — 

Thy  fallen  leaf 

And  gathered  sheaf, 
The  presence  that  is  fled, 
The  vows  that  once  were  said 

These  are  most  near. 

Swift  speeds  away 
Rose-crowned  To-day. 
So  far,  so  far 
Her  light  feet  are  ! 
I  look  and  see  thy  face 
Haunting  the  upland  place, 
Dear  Yesterday. 

The  blooming  flowers, 
The  sunny  hours  — 
These  cannot  rest, 
These  are  half  blest. 
But  thou  forevermore 
Art  mine,  love,  as  of  yore, 
And  time  is  ours. 

245 


THE  LAND  OF  LOVE. 

I  SAW  a  spirit  wandering  in  a  blessed  garden  land, 
And,  lo  !  she  plucked  seven  roses  and  bore  them  in  her 

hand, 
And  wove  an  odorous  wreath  thereof,  washed  pure  with 

morning  dew, 
And  crowned  there  her  shining  hair  for  God  and  men 

to  view. 

One  rose  was  white  as  maidenhood,  folding  its  heart 
of  gold, 

And  one  flushed  with  the  rapture  of  many  a  bliss  un 
told, 

And  one  grew  shy  and  paled  with  dread  of  heavy- 
footed  woe. 

Ah  me  !  the  fears,  deep-fraught  with  tears,  that  ten 
der  blossoms  know. 

The  fourth  rose  strong  and  stately  was,  and,  lo  !  be 
side  it  stood 

A  tiny  bud  of  promise,  as  sweet  as  babyhood. 

Deep  in  the  crimson  wine  of  truth  the  sixth  soft  rose 
was  dyed. 

The  last  was  bright  with  golden  light  —  long  may  its 
joy  abide  ! 

246 


And  as  I  looked  I  knew  full  well  no  land  more  fair 

could  be. 
And  angels  stooped  from  paradise  that  flower-crowned 

face  to  see, 
And  all  who  wandered    there  were  blest    all    blessed 

dreams  above, 
For  the  land  was  decked  for  earth's  elect,  and  the  spirit's 

name  was  Love. 


247 


WITH  FOLDED  WINGS. 

I  LEFT  the  heaven  of  heavens  this  morn, 
Ere  yet  this  morn  begun  — 

A  thousand  times  the  earth  has  borne 
Her  burden  round  the  sun 

Since  to-day  broke  in  heaven  and,  blest, 

We  sang  the  hymn  God  loveth  best. 

The  silver  wings  were  like  a  sea 
Sparkling  beneath  the  throne, 

Whose  mighty  billows  dazzled  me, 
Speeding  to  earth  alone. 

Still  in  the  dark  that  light  shines  clear, 

Still  through  the  silence  do  I  hear. 

Yet  heaven  is  not  for  me,  my  love, 
While  thou  on  earth  dost  bide. 

Through  hours  of  years  I  wait  above 
Time's  onward  flowing  tide 

Till  God  shall  free  thy  soul,  till  thou 

Shalt  feel  the  glory  round  thy  brow. 
248 


Peace  !  thou  shalt  look  in  vain  for  me 
Through  all  the  twilight  world. 

Beyond  the  moon,  for  love  of  thee, 
I  wait  with  pinions  furled. 

Art  lonely  on  the  peopled  earth  ? 

Mine  was  thy  soul  before  time's  birth. 

Nay,  seems  it  strange  God  wills  it  so, 
Bidding  us  still  be  twain  — 

For  me  the  joy,  for  thee  the  woe 
Through  creeping  years  of  pain? 

Ah,  love!  thy  tears  bedim  my  eyes. 

When  we  are  one  thou  shalt  arise. 


249 


A  PASTEL. 

May  I  wander  in  your  woods,  ye  warblers  ?  May  I 
wander  in  your  woods  ? 

If  you  will  not  walk  swiftly,  nor  flaunt  your  gaudy 
parasol  beneath  us,  nor  lift  your  spy-glass  to  count  our 
feathers. 

May  I  wander  in  your  woods,  ye  beetles  ?  May  I 
wander  in  your  woods  ? 

If  you  will  not  tread  heavily,  nor  pluck  the  brier- 
rose  where  we  powder  our  wings,  nor  start  when  the 
humblebee  buzzes. 

May  I  wander  in  your  woods,  ye  breezes  ?  May  I 
wander  in  your  woods  ? 

If  you  will  not  wear  stiff  robes,  nor  bare  the  leafy 
bough,  nor  veil  your  face  from  our  kisses. 

May  I  wander  in  your  woods,  ye  memories  ?  May  I 
wander  in  your  woods  ? 

If  you  will  not  gather  the  fallen  leaves,  nor  shadow 
your  brow  with  black,  nor  burden  the  air  with  sighs. 
250 


DANCING  SONG. 

CHORIAMBICS. 

COME,  love,  over  the  fields,  green  with  the   spring's 

first  kiss! 

Dance,  love !   roses  will  bloom  only  to  gaze  at  this. 
See  there  —  poised  in  the  blue,  deep  as  the  truth,  and 

pure, 
White  clouds  float  into  one,  cleave,  though  the  winds 

allure. 

Come,  dance  far  and  away  into  the  summer's  noon  ; 
Haste  on  over  the  night,  strewn  with  the  trailing  moon. 
Ween  not  love  is  a  sigh,  weighted  with  wings  of  lead  ; 
Hear  me  —  love  is  a  dance,  light  as  a  seraph's  tread. 

Ah,  sweet !  far  in  the  light,  storming  the  gates  of  pearl, 
Two  birds  circle  and  wheel,  quiver  and  float  and  whirl. 
Borne  on  music  above  soul  flies  to  soaring  soul  — 
What  bird  singing  of  love  e'er  could  his  wings  control  ? 

253 


So  we,  what  should  we  know,  e'en  though  the  sun 

should  die, 

Stars  dim  into  the  dark  —  why  should  you  care,  or  I? 
Dance  on  !  Love  is  the  light,  love  is  immortal  bliss. 
Life  fades  into  the  night  —  death  is  love's  morning  kiss. 


254 


MARRIAGE  SONG. 

BRING  roses,  bring  lilies, 
Wreathe  garlands  along  ; 

And  in  tune  with  the  wedding-bells 
Ho,  for  a  song  ! 

Haste,  ye  Cupids,  come  dancing, 
And  laugh  in  your  pride, 

For  the  maiden  you  humbled 
To-day  is  a  bride. 

Steal  her  blushes  to  redden 
Bright  clouds  at  the  dawn. 

Bear  her  sighs  where  the  souls 
Of  dead  blossoms  have  gone. 

Let  her  smiles  be  the  gems 

In  your  coronal  prize. 
Ah  !  but  what  will  ye  do 

With  the  light  in  her  eyes  ? 

You  might  set  it  above 

In  the  blue  ;  but  a  star 
Can  shine  only  through  darkness, 

And  only  afar. 

255 


A  soft  sunbeam  it  were, 
But  the  sun  in  his  might 

Departs  with  his  legions 
At  touch  of  the  night. 

Oh,  what  light  is  so  radiant, 

So  steadfast  and  pure, 
That  when  worlds  are  but  ghosts 

It  will  ever  endure  ? 

It  is  love.     Love  alone 
Shines  forever  and  aye. 

'T  is  the  light  of  God's  throne, 
T  is  the  infinite  day. 

Open  wide,  then,  the  gates 
For  the  bridegroom  and  bride  ! 

To  the  land  where  love  waits 
Open  wide  !  open  wide  ! 


256 


SLUMBER  SONG. 

AH,  let  me  sleep! 

The  portals  of  the  night  close  o'er  mine  eyes; 
My  spirit  in  the  soothing  shadow  lies, 

Too  tired  to  weep. 

I  see  afar 

The  soft  parade  of  unremembered  dreams 
Luring  me  down  smooth  lotus-wreathed  streams 

Where  perfumes  are. 

Canst  thou  not  hear 

The  lulling  winds  that  fan  away  the  day  ? 
The  sun  sleeps  in  some  cavern  far  away  — 

Why  should  we  fear  ? 

If  he  uproll 

The  curtains  of  the  night  and  come  again, 
Then  shall  we  wake  in  rapture.     Hush  till  then- 

Sleep — sleep,  my  soul. 


257 


LOVE  SONG. 

MORE  lovely  is  my  love 
Than  yonder  dove 

Who  flies  so  free. 
Her  voice  is  sweeter  far 
Than  larks'  notes  are. 
Ah,  dear  is  she. 

She  sitteth  in  the  sun, 
And  every  one 

Smiles  up  to  God — 
As  when  a  lily  rare 
Springeth  for  prayer 
Out  of  the  sod. 

Her  hair  enweaves  the  light 
In  woof  as  bright 

As  saints'  brows  wear. 
Her  soul  through  morning  eyes 
Explores  the  skies, 
For  truth  is  there. 
258 


Blest  with  glad  thoughts,  she  waits 
At  life's  swung  gates 
The  call  of  love  — 
God's  love  or  man's  —  ah  me  ! 
How  white  is  she  — 
My  flower,  my  dove  ! 

How  white  is  she  !    O  heart, 
Craven  thou  art. 

Hark  thee  —  be  stilled  ! 
The  highest  ranks  of  heaven  — 
God's  circles  seven  — 
Christ's  love  hath  filled. 

God  hath  no  need  of  her; 
She  does  not  stir 

When  wide  skies  shine. 
She  lives  for  love.     Awhile 
Her  solemn  smile 
Is  ours  —  is  mine  ! 


259 


TO  A  CHILD. 

AH,  Margaret,  my  valentine, 
Earth's  richest  treasures  all  are  thine. 
The  dawn  is  in  thy  glowing  hair, 

And  in  thine  eyes 

Are  darkening  skies, 
A-sparkle  with  the  evening  star. 

Thy  voice  is  like  the  wakening  laugh 
Of  summer,  when  the  robins  quaff 
Love-potions  with  a  flight  of  song. 

Thy  footsteps  all 

Like  daisies  fall 
Life's  shadowy,  leafy  path  along. 

And  so  in  loving  thee  I  love 

The  sweetest  thoughts  of  God  above. 

An  angel's  message  is  thy  kiss. 

My  valentine, 

Still  half  divine, 
Stoop  to  me  from  thy  skies  of  bliss ! 


260 


LOVE'S  POWER. 

WHO  has  so  fair  a  face? 

Where  blooms  so  rare  a  grace  ? 
What  song  so  blithe  in  all  the  world  is  ringing? 

Meseems  my  lady  spies 

My  world  from  azure  skies, 
Whence  sunny  wealth  of  smiles  her  soul  is  flinging. 

She  is  so  bright,  so  free, 

She  cannot  stoop  to  me, 
Whom  God  hath  chained  to  earth,  whose  soul  is  craven. 

I  love  her,  yet  my  feet 

To  flee  from  her  are  fleet. 
I  love  her,  yet  my  spirit  shuns  its  haven. 

I  love  her,  yet  I  know 

She  is  more  pure  than  snow, 

And  I  am  stained  with  life,  and  scarred  with  warring. 
How  should  I  dare  to  stand 
Where  seraphs  hand  in  hand 

Kneel  all  agaze,  the  gates  of  heaven  unbarring? 
261 


Yet  if  she  bade  me  rise 
And  meet  her  glowing  eyes, 

Bade  me  be  brave,  earth  and  the  darkness  spurning, 
My  soul  would  dare  to  wield 
God's  sword  and  bear  His  shield, 

And  find  that  heaven  for  which  the  world  is  yearning. 


262 


AU  REVOIR. 

FORGET  me  not,  thou  who  shalt  wander  far. 

Here  on  thy  breast  I  lay 
Flowers  blue  as  heaven,  enclosing  each  a  star; 

Now  onward  be  thy  way! 

I  do  not  fear  to  send  thee  to  the  light, 

Though  round  God's  triple  throne 
Immortal  beauty  dwells  in  souls  more  bright 

Than  joy  could  make  mine  own. 

Though  worlds  on  worlds  in  marshalled  glory  shine, 

All  singing  as  they  roll, 
The  seal  love  set  upon  thy  life  is  mine. 

I  greet  thy  wakened  soul. 

Learn  on !  and  when  I  dare  to  follow  thee 

Beyond  death's  blinding  sun, 
Show  me  God's  truth,  where  souls  may  wander  free, 

When  love  and  light  are  one. 


263 


HOPE. 

WHAT  wilt  thou  do  when  faith  is  fled 

And  hope  is  dead 
And  love's  wing  broken  ? 
Wilt  thou  lie  in  the  grave  of  the  past  and  sleep, 

While  the  mourners  weep 
And  sad  rites  are  spoken  ? 

Nay,  nay  —  fare  forth,  though  the  night  be  black 

And  the  storm's  red  rack 
In  the  sky  is  burning  ; 
For  the  sun  shines  somewhere,  from  gloom  released, 

And  the  heart  of  the  east 
For  the  day  is  yearning. 


264 


UNFULFILLED. 


LORD,  I  am  weak,  and  through  the  night 
Bright  stars  stream  mercilessly  strong. 
Where  is  my  will  ?     In  nebulous  flight 
Its  wide  wings  drift  and  waft  along, 
And  dip  their  trailing  plumes  in  gloom, 
And  bear  me  floating  far  away 
Where  the  deep  darkness  offers  room 
For  conquering  suns  to  form  and  sway. 


Long  trails  of  shadowy  light  diffused 
That  wander  dimly  through  the  spheres, 
My  errant  longings,  deep  infused 
With  glories  of  unnumbered  years, 
Watch  at  the  massing  of  the  suns, 
Feel  the  round  planets  rolling  by, 
Lingering  while  the  world-stream  runs, 
While  constellations  glow  and  die. 
265 


Ah,  Lord  !  this  nebulous  mist  of  light 
That  shines  not  though  it  searches  far- 
Canst  thou  not  crush  its  tangled  flight, 
Condense  its  dim  glow  to  a  star  ? 
Gather  its  sweeping  subtile  wings, 
So  weary  with  their  wide  desire, 
And  'mid  thy  starry  lightenings 
Count  one  more  shining  point  of  fire. 


266 


PROH  PUDOR! 

A  MYSTIC  poet  sang  of  valiant  knight 

And  fierce  adventure  on  heroic  field, 

Where  smiling  victory  ever  crowned  the  wight 

Armed  well  in  holiness,  whose  shining  shield 

His  Lord  had  tempered.     As  my  spirits  yield 

To  the  sweet,  noble  harmony,  I  know 

The  joy  of  great  achievement,  seem  to  wield 

The  hero's  conquering  lance,  and  strike  the  blow 

At  error's  heart  which  shall  uncoil  her  folds  of  woe. 

Ah,  sad  awakening  !    Spenser,  if  thou  were 
This  cycle's  epic  bard,  thy  joyous  lay 
Would  be  attuned  to  mourning.     In  the  stir 
And  smoke  of  life,  the  singers  of  to-day 
Seek  not  to  crown  the  victor,  nor  to  lay 
The  muses'  wreath  upon  a  hero's  grave, 
But  rearward  of  the  race  their  stars,  astray, 
Illume  with  ugly  truth  some  straggling  slave, 
And  leave  to  darkness  and  forgetfulness  the  brave. 
267 


Have  we  no  majesty,  no  beauty  still 

To  make  the  new  tales  worthy  of  the  old? 

Strong  have  our  deeds  been  ;  let  our  strength  but  fill 

Volumes  with  paeans,  that  our  age,  so  bold, 

May,  like  the  sun,  set  in  a  blaze  of  gold, 

Kindling  the  world  to  glory  !     Then  at  last 

The  child  of  a  great  morrow  shall  behold 

Advance  the  flaming  banners  of  the  past 

Across  the  somber  dawn  of  times  undreamed  and  vast. 


268 


FOR  JOHN  PAUL 

Who  sent  roses  on  St.  Valentine's  day. 

STAY,  sweet  roses,  stay  but  a  day, 

Breathe  me  your  souls  ere  your  leaves  decay, 

That  over  the  air  to  my  valentine 

I  may  waft  him  a  perfume  as  rich  as  wine, 

That  shall  charm  his  desire  to  some  dear  repose 

As  safe  and  as  sweet  as  thy  heart,  white  rose  ! 


269 


TO  ROBERT  LOUIS  STEVENSON. 


In  wet  wood  and  miry  lane 
Still  we  pound  and  pant  in  vain. 

From  the  lines  "  To  WillH.  Low ' 
in  "  Underwoods." 


VAIN  the  outstretched  hands,  the  feet 
Blistered  in  the  noonday  heat ; 
Vain  the  climbing  thought,  the  brain 
Dull  with  longing — all  are  vain. 

Eyes  of  seer  may  never  see 
Semblance  of  his  ecstasy. 
Poet's  arms  shall  ne'er  embrace 
Beauty,  whose  averted  face 
Lures  him  to  a  hopeless  chase. 

Yet  who  seeks  her  shall  behold 
Trails  of  glory,  fields  of  gold, 
Till  the  splendor  of  her  eyes 
Leads  his  soul  to  paradise. 

Ah,  pursue  her  still  !  for  we, 
Gazing  where  thou  searchest,  see 
Crystal  flashes  of  her  wings, 
Glimpses  of  celestial  things. 
270 


OUTWARD  BOUND. 

LET  time  and  the  waves  roll  by 
To  their  haven  over  the  sea  — 

My  bark  is  my  home,  say  I, 
My  love  is  my  life  to  me. 

My  love  is  my  life  —  ah,  woe  ! 

Sail  on,  for  the  skies  are  blue. 
Sail  on,  while  the  glad  winds  blow  — 

My  love  as  my  life  is  true. 

Worlds  lie  in  yon  golden  star 

More  young  than  the  burning  sun. 

I  follow  my  love  afar ! 

Nay  —  death  and  life  are  one. 


271 


TO  HESTER. 

THOU  art  so  still  ! 

My  heart's  blood  freezes  'neath  thy  frosty  will. 
Thine  eyes,  as  constant  as  the  polar  star, 

Are  colder  far. 

Ah,  not  for  thee 

The  ardor  of  the  south,  where  love  is  free. 
The  sun  allows  thee  but  a  polar  ray  — 

An  arctic  day. 

A  star  must  woo 

Far  through  the  soundless  heaven's  serenest  blue — 
Bright  Arcturus  or  dauntless  Antares  — 

Thy  soul  to  please. 

And  such  as  I, 

Whose  love  is  all  my  immortality, 
Dream  what  were  his,  what  bliss  of  gods  above, 

Whom  thou  shouldst  love  ! 


272 


EPITAPH  ON  A  DOG. 

HE  has  fled  from  life,  and  we 
Soon  his  followers  shall  be. 
Even  a  dog's  death  may  recall 
Death's  sure  conquest  of  us  all. 

Even  a  dog!  —  ah,  well  may  we 
Death's  dark  hour  with  calmness  see, 
If  our  lives  as  his  have  been 
Loving,  faithful,  brave,  serene. 


273 


A  QUESTION. 

Do  I  love  her,  say  you  ?     Why 
Will  you  give  a  stately  name 
To  a  mood  that  wanders  by 
Like  a  perfume  ?     Love  her  ?     Ay  ! 
Do  you  blame? 

You  have  rigid  rules.     You  know 
All  the  haunts  of  duty.     There, 
Where  the  armored  lilies  glow 
None  shall  see  you  bending  low  — 
Ah,  beware  ! 

Yours  the  loss  !     Look — she  doth  shine 
Like  a  chalice  crowned  with  flowers, 
Brimming  with  ambrosial  wine 
Brewed  in  joy  for  lips  divine  — 
Not  for  ours. 

Yet  my  soul  is  mirrored  there 

Golden  as  the  blessed  sun. 
Shall  I  quaff  the  goblet  ?    Where 
Were  my  dream  then  ?     I  forbear. 
Who  has  won  ? 


274 


A  SKETCH. 

ALERT  and  over-wise, 
The  spirit  in  her  eyes 
Laughs  at  our  weary  sighs, 

Our  fierce  endeavor. 
For,  scan  it  as  she  may, 
This  life  is  but  a  play 
That  fools  us  for  a  day, 

Then  stops  forever. 

Philosophies  she  reads, 
And  dabbles  with  the  creeds, 
And  gloats  upon  the  deeds 

Of  saint  and  sinner. 
So  young  !  she  dares  to  know 
All  that  the  world  may  show, 
And  never  feel  a  throe 

The  heart  within  her. 

Yet  rare  she  is,  and  sweet. 
Methinks  some  seraph  fleet 
Her  brave  adventurous  feet 
Is  softly  guiding ; 

275 


Who  o'er  her  eyelids  flings 
Shadows  of  folded  wings, 
The  abyss  of  evil  things 
Tenderly  hiding. 

Perchance,  for  pity's  sake, 
Some  golden  morn  will  break 
And  bid  the  soul  awake 

Now  idly  sleeping. 
Some  light  of  love  or  truth, 
Some  fire  of  pain  or  ruth 
Will  flash  upon  her  youth, 

In  lowlands  creeping. 

For  her,  then,  through  the  blue 
Worlds  will  be  born  anew, 
And  light  divine  shine  true 

Thick  clouds  now  darken. 
And  out  of  dull  disguise 
A  spirit  will  arise 
Fit  to  explore  the  skies, 

At  heaven's  gate  harken. 


276 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  DAKOTAS. 

SLEEP  softly,  O  my  mother  ! 

The  wind  has  died  away 
That  stirred  the  silent  waves  of  mist, 

Where  beckoning  shadows  play. 

Wrapped  in  her  fleecy  blanket, 
The  moon  has  gone  to  rest ; 

The  wigwams  stand  like  warrior  ghosts 
To  guide  me  on  my  quest. 

My  vows  ye  would  not  listen, 
My  tears  ye  would  not  heed  ; 

Sleep  on,  and  let  the  stars  alone 
Behold  my  valiant  deed. 


The  night  enfolds  me  softly, 
My  steps  are  light  as  dew  ; 

I  do  not  fear  the  spirits  near, 
My  steel  is  strong  and  true. 
277 


They  sold  me  to  the  sorcerer 
And  bade  my  love  despair  — 

My  brave  who  wears  the  eagle's  plumes 
Above  his  shining  hair. 

I  clad  me  in  my  splendor, 
My  fringed  robes  and  beads, 

And  met  him  by  the  river  brink 
Among  the  swaying  reeds. 

I  told  him  of  my  dreaming  : 
When  sleep  had  made  me  strong 

The  Spirit  of  the  Waters*  rose 
And  sang  a  battle-song ; 

And  bade  my  soul  have  courage, 
And  gave  me  power  divine 

To  strike  the  cruel  wizard-chief, 
His  enemy  and  mine  — 

His  foe  who  dared  to  wander 
With  Thunder  through  the  air, 

Who  scourged  the  Waters  and  unloosed 
Fierce  lightnings  from  his  lair. 


*  In  the  mythology  of  the  Dakotas  the  Spirit  of  the  Winds  and 
the  Spirit  of  the  Waters  were  perpetually  at  war,  and  they  engaged 
mortals  in  their  service. 

278 


My  troth  once  more  I  plighted, 
My  vows  once  more  I  swore. 

For  I  will  wed  my  love  ;  the  chief 
We  fear  shall  live  no  more. 

My  brave  across  the  prairies 

I  sent  with  spear  and  bow 
Lest  they  should  slay  him  for  the  blood 

My  knife  alone  shall  know. 

Deep  be  its  stroke  !     To-morrow 
They  will  not  braid  my  hair, 

Nor  deck  my  brow  with  silver  gauds 
Fit  for  a  bride  to  wear. 

And  through  the  days  of  mourning 

Glad  will  I  be  and  free, 
Till  in  the  moon  of  ripening  rice 

My  love  shall  come  to  me. 


Bravely  the  night  has  sped  me, 

The  curtain  waves  me  in. 
How  black  he  lies,  this  bridegroom  wise, 

All  withered  with  his  sin  ! 


279 


Great  Spirit  of  the  Waters  — 

Now  clothe  mine  arm  with  power ! 

Against  thy  foe  I  strike  this  blow, 
Whose  soul  is  thine  this  hour. 

Even  though  the  flying  tempest 
Should  beat  his  thunder  wings, 

I  will  not  fear,  for  thou  art  near  — 
I  hear  thy  murmurings. 


280 


BY  THE  DRAGON  RIVER. 

FAIR  wreaths  upon  cold  altars  lie. 

Ah,  lovely  vows  are  said  and  sung 
That  echoless  but  rise  and  die, 

And  give  the  wandering  winds  no  tongue. 

Brave  vows  !   But  yesterday,  they  say, 
A  troop  of  maidens  slender-eyed, 

Pale  as  their  yellow  sun's  last  ray, 

Vowed  to  live  pure,  and  stainless  died. 

Vowed  to  live  pure  beneath  the  moon 
In  that  sere  land  where  love  is  naught, 

Where  maids  with  flowery  hearts  of  June 
Like  autumn  fruits  are  sold  and  bought. 

And  when  one  maiden  felt  her  vow 
Falter  beneath  her  sire's  command, 

Even  with  the  bride-veil  on  her  brow 
Swift  fled  she  to  the  virgin  band. 

And  loyally  they  twined  their  souls 

Into  a  wreath  of  lilies  white, 
To  crown  the  Dragon  where  it  rolls 

Its  swift  flood  through  the  purple  night. 
281 


They  sang  above  the  torrent  dark 
A  low  sweet  song  of  joy.     Ah  me  ! 

The  restive  winds  lay  still  to  hark, 
The  almond  flowers  bowed  low  to  see. 

Then  from  a  world  to  truth  unkind, 
Seeking  a  world  where  truth  is  blest, 

Together,  arms  and  hearts  entwined, 

Downward  they  leaped.     God  knows  the  rest. 


283 


A  HYMN. 

THY  bounty  is  a  crystal  well 

Where  all  the  world  may  drink. 

We  bring  bright  cups,  and  can  not  tell 
What  waits  us  at  the  brink. 

One  quaffs  rich  draughts  of  joy;  and  one, 

Lifting  his  strong  arm  high, 
Some  dear  pledge  shouting  to  the  sun, 

Drains  sorrow's  chalice  dry. 

And  one,  wreathing  his  bowl  for  sleep, 

Quaffs  years  of  bitter  breath  ; 
And  one,  hope's  beaker  dipping  deep, 
'  Tastes  the  wide  seas  of  death. 

Yet  crystal  clear  the  waters  rise 

From  infinite  realms  of  rest ; 
Each  cup  mirrors  the  glowing  skies, 

And  every  drop  is  blest. 


TO  MY  LEADER. 

THE  years  have  surged  o'er  life's  receding  shore  — 

Soft  waves  from  Time's  vast  ocean  —  since  with  thee 

I  walked  in  joy,  since  thou  revealed  to  me 

Glories  my  soul  had  never  known  before. 

Once  I  was  blind  :  o'er  dull  eyes  thou  didst  pour 

The  glowing  gift  of  light,  eternal,  free. 

Lo  !   I  was  dumb  :  thou  spak'st  of  liberty 

And  straight  my  mind  shattered  the  chains  it  wore. 

All  that  is  best  in  me  is  thine.     Thou  art 

My  inspiration,  as  of  old  the  star 

Conjured  its  worshiper  to  song.     The  goal 

Of  thy  sure  hope  so  lofty  is,  thy  heart 

So  pure,  I  can  but  love  thee  from  afar  — 

My  friend,  my  sister,  mother  of  my  soul. 


287 


TO  A  CLASS-MATE. 

DOST  thou  remember  days  when  thou  and  I 

Walked  thoughtful  o'er  the  violet-studded  green  — 

When  oaks  waved  high  above  us,  and  between 

We  searched  the  deep  blue  beauty  of  the  sky  ? 

Life  smiled  about  us  then ;  with  visions  high 

Gay  we  invoked  the  future.     Each  was  queen 

Of  a  wide  realm  of  fancies,  and  the  sheen 

Of  youth's  gold  splendor  o'er  the  world  did  lie. 

Alas  !  we  meet  no  more.     The  gathering  years 

Are  eloquent  with  silence,  and  thy  face 

Is  but  a  memory.     But  the  thought  of  thee, 

Of  our  vague  dreams,  our  faith  that  banished  fears, 

Is  like  a  benediction,  and  the  grace 

Of  the  old  blessed  time  comes  back  to  me. 


TIME'S  PERVERSITY. 

O  TIME,  how  cunning  are  thy  ways  with  men! 
Along  the  blooming  road  thou  liest  prone 
In  ambush,  and  when  youth  dreams  all  his  own 
Thy  hoar  hand  smites,  and  all  the  summer  then 
Turns  ashen,  and  life's  flushing  glories  wane, 
Shrivel  to  age  before  thy  gaze  of  stone. 
Thou  art  unmerciful,  for  many  a  moan 
Thou  smotherest  with  the  dust  of  years  of  pain, 
But  dost  not  comfort.     Me  thou  mockest,  Time. 
Thou  wav'st  me  past  the  garden-land  of  song, 
Where  I  would  weave  thee  garlands  all  the  day, 
And  bid'st  me  pave  with  stones  thy  stubborn  way, 
Till  my  sad  soul  doth  oft  for  blindness  long, 
For  freedom  from  a  vision  too  sublime. 


289 


ON  READING  A  MODERN  ROMANCE. 

ACROSS  the  shadow  of  these  morbid  years, 
Whose  growth  luxuriant,  tangled,  loads  the  air 
With  perfume  and  decay  ;  whose  soil  doth  bear 
Rich  rottenness,  while  rooted  beauty  rears 
Heaven-seeking  boughs  through  a  hot  mist  of  tears 
Oh,  through  this  breathless  region  let  the  blast 
From  happier  centuries  sweep  pure  and  fast 
And  strong  upon  our  fever  and  our  fears ! 
Hark  !  the  clear  voice  of  man's  imperial  youth 
Cries  warning  to  his  weary  middle  age  — 
Sings  of  the  days  when  newly  found  was  truth, 
Nor  blasted  yet  by  doubting  Time's  bleak  rage  ; 
When  men  bowed  low  to  nature,  holiest  shrine 
Of  God,  and,  rising,  knew  they  were  divine. 


290 


-THE  MONARCH." 

A  portrait  of  a  lion,  by  Rosa  Bonheur,  now  in  the  Vanderbilt  collection. 

NAY,  wouldst  them  rule  —  thou  impotent,  fond  man? 

Lo — I  am  here.     What  wilt  thou  do  with  me, 

Thou  and  thy  past? — thy  vagrant  memory  ; 

Thy  wisdom  that  would  impudently  scan 

The  universe  ;  thy  hope,  that  longs  to  span 

The  unborn  centuries,  that  dares  decree 

Laws  for  the  Infinite  !     Ah,  hush  thy  plea, 

For  I  am  here.     Obliterate  thy  plan. 

The  tassel  dangling  from  the  throne  of  Truth 

Is  all  that  thou  canst  reach  —  why  wilt  thou  climb? 

Why  wilt  thou  spend  thy  soul,  and  waste  thy  youth 

In  passionate  consciousness  ?     Ah  !  fool  sublime  ! 

Wisdom  and  power  are  mine,  the  eternal  Now 

Am  I.     Thou  puny  thinker,  what  art  thou  ? 


291 


AN  INVOCATION  TO  HEALTH. 

For  one  seeking  her  in  the  Adirondacks. 

COME,  spirit  of  life  !     Far  in  the  blue  serene, 

Where  spent  desire  sleepeth  in  deeps  of  light, 

Why  dost  thou  linger  still  ?     The  noiseless  night, 

The  dying  year,  the  desolate  soft  sheen 

Of  moonlit  snows  wrapping  the  world  and  e'en 

The  winds  in  robes  of  silence,  and  the  might 

Of  sleeping  pulses  prisoned  —  all  invite 

The  swift  thrill  of  thy  breath,  for  thou  art  queen, 

Come  to  thy  votary,  that  not  in  vain 

He  climb  the  trackless  reaches  of  the  snow 

In  search  of  thee.     Pour  thine  ethereal  wine 

Through  all  his  weariness,  till  mocking  pain 

Flee  like  a  phantom,  that  his  soul  may  know 

Freedom  to  wander  far  in  fields  divine  ! 


292 


TO  MRS.  YALE. 

FRIEND,  let  me  wait  still  longer  at  thy  feet 

Thanking  thee  silently  for  perfect  things: 

For  antique  doors  flung  open,  for  the  wings 

Of  orioles  in  the  fruit-trees,  for  the  seat 

By  the  broad  hearth,  sacred  with  memories  sweet ; 

For  portraits  of  dead  youth,  whose  beauty  clings 

Still  to  loved  walls ;  for  high  imaginings 

Won  from  old  songs  where  gods  and  mortals  meet. 

But  most  for  thee  let  me  thank  God  and  thee, 

Whom  time  delights  to  honor,  whose  long  youth 

Feels  not  the  snowy  fall  of  wintry  years. 

Blest  as  yon  mighty  elm,  of  gifts  as  free, 

Thy  soul  strives  ever  nearer  to  the  truth, 

Ever  more  tenderly  earth's  voices  hears. 

Deerfield,  July  the  third,  1891. 


293 


TO  MY  SISTER. 

From  over  the  Sea. 

I  FEEL  thy  hand  upon  my  heart,  I  see 

Thy  white  brow  bending  softly  over  mine. 

Thy  voice  is  in  mine  ear,  thy  deep  eyes  shine 

Like  stars  above  me.     Thou  hast  followed  me, 

For  spirit  and  desire  alike  are  free. 

The  invulnerable  ocean  doth  entwine 

Its  strong  white  arms  about  my  love  and  thine, 

Guarding  them  safely  for  eternity. 

Seas  can  not  part  us,  nor  the  soundless  deep 

Where  Time  casts  down  the  treasures  of  the  earth 

The  perishable  baubles  we  adore. 

Our  souls  shall  wake  from  this  abyss  of  sleep, 

To  feel  the  rapture  of  a  strange  new  birth, 

Walk  hand  in  hand  with  Truth  forevermore. 


294 


RED  CLOVER. 

CALL  me  new-born  thy  worshiper,  sweet  flower, 
Soft  laughter  of  the  meadows  !     I  have  seen 
Thy  pink  spheres  shake  away  the  dewy  screen 
From  night's  caress  to  greet  the  dawn's  glad  hour. 
I  feel  the  rich  weight  of  thy  blossoms  cower, 
When  wild  winds  sweep  across  the  wastes  of  green, 
Startling  the  bees,  who,  restful  wings  a-sheen, 
Steal  thy  sweet  riches  for  their  queen's  bright  dower. 
Thou  seem'st  to  all  pure  things  allied,  and  so 
Thy  blossoms  touched  no  stranger  when  they  lay 
So  proudly  'neath  that  rose-tipped  chin  of  hers. 
For  she,  though  bred  in  cities,  yet  doth  know 
The  finer  thoughts  of  nature.     Her  soul  stirs 
To  greet  thee  as  thine  own  to  greet  the  day. 


295 


TO  A  BEAUTIFUL  LADY. 

WHENAS  my  soul  lies  brimming  like  a  well 

And  sweetest  thoughts  rise  bubbling  to  the  brink  ; 

When  floating  flowers  upon  my  fancy  dwell 

And  the  blue  sky  deep  in  mine  heart  doth  sink 

Full-mirrored  ;  when  swift  joys  alight  and  drink 

Supernal  draughts,  till,  burdened  like  a  bell, 

They  cleave  the  hush  with  song,  and  dare  not  shrink 

From  sunward  flights  to  glory's  citadel : 

Then  do  I  think  on  thee,  and  hark  to  hear 

A  choir  of  seraphs  striking  harps  divine  ; 

For  thou  art  pure  as  waters  crystal-clear, 

Lovely  as  lilies,  as  soft  rains  benign. 

Of  God's  high  purposes  and  life's  deep  cheer 

Thy  soul  the  proof  is,  and  thy  face  the  sign. 


296 


TO  W.  S.  M. 

With  a  copy  of  Shelley. 

BEHOLD,  I  send  thee  to  the  heights  of  song, 

My  brother  !     Let  thine  eyes  awake  as  clear 

As  morning  dew,  within  whose  glowing  sphere 

Is  mirrored  half  a  world  ;  and  listen  long, 

Till  in  thine  ears,  famished  to  keenness,  throng 

The  bugles  of  the  soul  —  till  far  and  near 

Silence  grows  populous,  and  wind  and  mere 

Are  phantom-choked  with  voices.    Then  be  strong — 

Then  halt  not  till  thou  seest  the  beacons  flare 

Souls  mad  for  truth  have  lit  from  peak  to  peak. 

Haste  on  to  breathe  the  intoxicating  air — 

Wine  to  the  brave  and  poison  to  the  weak  — 

Far  in  the  blue  where  angels'  feet  have  trod, 

Where  earth  is  one  with  heaven,  and  man  with  God. 


297 


BY  LAKE  MICHIGAN. 

BLUE  as  eternity,  bright  as  God's  smile, 
Pure  as  the  folded  wings  of  seraphim, 
Thy  waters  flow  this  morning  at  the  rim 
Of  paradise.     Full  many  a  mile  on  mile 
Some  golden  craft  might  bear  me  to  the  isle 
Where  solemn  Sappho  sings  her  sacred  hymn, 
Where  love  is  ever  young,  eyes  never  dim, 
And  truth  a  shining  splendor  all  the  while. 
Surely  my  soul  might  sail  into  thy  blue, 
And  be  so  purged  of  earthly  dross  and  stain 
That  one  I  loved  would  take  the  form  I  knew, 
And  speak  to  me  and  clasp  my  hand  again, 
Stooping  with  winged  throngs  for  retinue 
From    the   wide    heaven  where    he  hath  learned 
to  reign. 


ENVOI 


ENVOI. 

On  reading  Longfellow's  lines  "The  Arrow  and  the  Song." 

ALTHOUGH  my  arrow  miss  its  goal, 
And  all  my  song  be  lost  in  air, 

Yet  I  have  aimed  the  shaft ;  my  soul 
Has  known  of  song  the  sweet  despair. 

What  though  amid  the  choral  throng 
Who  feel  the  lightning  of  thy  breath, 

Bright  Muse,  and,  sowing  earth  with  song, 
Pass  on  to  fame  through  gates  of  death  — 

I  cannot  stand,  sun-crowned,  on  high  ! 

Yet  at  the  mountain's  shadowy  base 
At  times  may  glories  daze  mine  eye, 

Far-away  glimpses  of  thy  face. 

Ah  !  then,  when  all  my  thought  is  free 
From  care,  that  now  the  vision  blurs, 

Gladness  my  soul  shall  know,  to  be 
Even  least  among  thy  worshipers. 


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